ANONYMOUS dot COM
by Mello's Favorite Reject
Summary: Mihael is a bully at school who has lost faith in himself, humanity, and even God. Mail is a pathological liar who can't keep his stories straight. The two meet online and seem to get along, but their alliance can only last as long as they stay… ANONYMOUS.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** ANONYMOUS dot COM

**Summary:** Mihael is a bully at school who has lost faith in himself, humanity, and even God. Mail is a pathological liar who can't keep his stories straight. The two meet online and seem to get along, but their alliance can only last as long as they stay… ANONYMOUS.

**Disclaimer:** Plot is mine, characters aren't. Anything referenced is owned by someone other than myself.

**Author's Note:** Started writing this ages ago; it's been in my notebooks for so long, and I'm finally doing something with it.

**Author's Note II:** I can't make promises on how often I update this. Granted, I already have a rough draft written up and completed in my notebook, I only plan to work on this when I either hit writer's block or need a break from what I'm working on. My current top priorities are CiTC (Cinders in The Crater) and any OneShots that my brain comes up with. That said, Enjoy the Prologue of A.C (ANONYMOUS dot COM.)

…

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

…

_Email Address: Catechism *at* tycoon . com_ **(A/N: Yeah, fanfiction doesn't let me keep the 'at' symbol thingy.)**  
User_ Name: Amateur at Best  
__Password: xxxx-xx  
__[LOG IN]_

_**WELCOME TO ANONYMOUS!**_

"I don't get the point of these networking sites." A blonde youth sighed loudly and spun in his chair. After a few rotations, he allowed his dull blue eyes to drift back to the screen, where his profile awaited completion. When his boredom reached a new low, he finally proceeded to fill out the _ABOUT ME _segment. Once that was done, all he needed to do was choose a Status and click on the _SAVE/UPDATE_ button.

_[Amateur at Best]  
__STATUS: Really bored. Ready to hang myself. Seriously._

He'd just finished setting everything up when a voice hit his ears, calling for him to come and get breakfast. "Shut the fuck up, I'm busy!" he yelled in response, getting up and heading to the kitchen anyways. He grabbed two beers from the fridge and took his usual seat at the table.

One other occupant was at the table, a dark haired man with blood-red eyes and a malicious smile. He grabbed one of the beers and examined the bottle like a jeweler might inspect a fake diamond; he dropped it carelessly to the floor, taking a moment to marvel at the chime of glass shattering and shards scattering. Then he turned his attention to a jar of Strawberry jam; he dipped his long spidery fingers into the sticky spread. "What were you doing, Mihael?" he asked calmly, fingers slipping into his mouth.

The blonde in question shrugged and uncapped his own beer. "Don't worry 'bout it, _Beyond_."

A scowl contorted Beyond's pale face. "Mihael, we've been through this… Call me _dad_," he said.

"You're not my father," countered the blonde. "You're not him. And you'll never be him; so stop trying to look like him." He snatched himself a chocolate bar and peeled the foil. "You're just pissing me off. You always pissed mom off too."

Red eyes narrowed at the small series of indictments. "Whatever. Just finish your beer, get your shit, and say bye to your mum."

Mihael did as he was told, grumbling and complaining the whole time, but that was how he did things. He could be a royal bitch if he wanted to, and no damn father impersonator was going to tell him otherwise. He left his chocolate untouched, chugged his beer, discarded the bottle, and threw his clothes on, not caring if he looked rather unkempt in his wrinkled school uniform. Then… he walked back to the kitchen table, ignored the dark-haired man completely and knelt beside an empty chair, on which sat a floral-print cushion and a photograph. He gave a small smile and stared at the photo. "Hey, mom. It's time for school, so I gotta go. I'm sorry for not talking much this morning, but I'll make it up to you. When I get home, I'll tell you all about it." That smile fell from his face as he bade a farewell, got up, and walked out the door.

He had a bus to catch, and not much time to catch it. He looked at his watch every few minutes and, upon realizing how little time he had, he picked up the pace and started to jog. He made it to the bus stop just in time to see his mode of transportation driving off without him. He cursed loudly and kicked the roadside bench before sitting down and mulling how much he hated life.

And at that moment, the God he used to believe in must've taken pity on him, for an orange Monte Carlo pulled up, radio blaring some Metallica song and its two occupants whooping and hollering to the blonde. "Yo, yo, Mihael! Check it out! Sweet ride, huh? Taz and I –we be cruisin' like homies, yo!"

Mihael's icy blue eyes gazed at the car, the driver, and the passenger. "Domino? Taz? I'm so fuckin' glad you two showed up. I'd be royally fucked if I was late again." He looked utterly relieved as he got up, approached the car, jerked open the car door and slid in easily. "Nice ride, I guess," he murmured once he got situated.

The driver, presumably Domino, laughed light-heartedly. "Yeah, my little brother just turned 16, and this was his present."

Mihael quirked a brow. "Why are you driving your brother's present?" To this question, no answer was given.

Domino, a colored boy with a high IQ and a poor vocabulary, was usually quite talkative… as long as he wasn't talking about his family. –And Taz was more brawn than brain, acting as a muscular lackey and rarely voicing his opinions; his sickly grey skin gave him a false-impression of vulnerability.

The trio got to school and split up. Taz stayed at the front door, arms crossed as he intimidated the puny freshman and promised silent threats to anyone who looked at him the wrong way; he acted as a bouncer, going as far as to hit the richer students up for cash. Domino, on the other hand, raced inside yipping and yammering and partaking in general tomfoolery before heading towards the lockers and scoping out a victim; it was his daily duty to pick a target for the three of 'em to bully. And finally, Mihael entered last, taking his time as he walked the halls and entered a bathroom at the far end of the school –a bathroom that he and his band of misfits often used for giving swirlies to prey of their choosing.

But this bathroom was important for reasons other than that. For the blonde, this bathroom was a place where he could undergo metamorphosis.

* * *

_Email Address: SubmissivePup1 *at* tycoon . com  
__User Name: RedAlert  
__Password: xxxx-xx  
__[LOG IN]_

_**WELCOME TO ANONYMOUS!**_

A particular redhead lit a cigarette as he signed in to his ANONYMOUS account. He'd been entertaining himself with this site for nearly three months, and he no longer marveled that it was called ANONYMOUS, and yet, it was so easy to hack in and steal someone's personal information. He'd done it a few times just because he was bored, and of course, such things were too trivial for him to bother with. So, for now, he clicked from one profile to another, looking for a candidate to alleviate his current state of boredom. Because his life was quite a bore, indeed. He lived in a crummy apartment complex owned by some bigshot named Yagami, and… Yes, he was late on paying rent; yes, his clothes had holes and his shoes were falling apart. And yes, the new Final Fantasy game came out a week ago and he'd yet to pick it up. And, damn if his car didn't need a new transmission. But his money was being spent on more important things, or so he liked to claim.

_[RedAlert]  
__STATUS: Coke, now. Hook me up, bitches. PAR-TAY._

No, he wasn't an addict; he'd never even tried the stuff; he didn't like using vulgar words, and he'd never once attended a party that didn't start with balloons tied to treat bags and end with a belly full of cake – but it was always so fun to lie and gauge the reactions of others. He was constantly setting up new accounts, working with various aliases and telling stories about a life that was less than his own and more of a twisted fairy tale.

Depending on who he talked to, he was someone by another name, with different hobbies and jobs and dilemmas.

For instance, under the screenname _MetalCarbonite_, he was a pyro-obsessed mechanic with a cheating wife and six kids; his alleged name was Jonathan Carpenter. –Then there was _MotherKnowsBest_, a widow named Tabatha Heuller who flaunted how she'd poisoned her last two husbands and beckoned men with fetishes. –And of course, _RedAlert_, his newest account, with which he'd call himself Matt… though, he'd yet to fully come up with new background information and whatnot; he supposed he'd just make it up as he went along.

Still, this redhead's search stopped on one profile in particular; he skimmed the content of someone named Amateur at Best and sent a Friend Request and a brief message. Then he looked at the clock, groaned, and got up, knocking his chair over in the process. He slipped on his shoes, grabbed his vest and car keys and was out the door.

Before he could completely exit the apartment, he ran into a brunette.

"Sorry, Light. Gotta go to school. Gotta get goin' or I'll be late again," said the redhead, slipping on his vest and jingling his keys.

The brunette smiled warmly, though his eyes narrowed deviously. "But… Mail, your rent is almost two weeks late. My father owns this apartment, y'know. And I could ask him to cut your some more slack, but… it's gonna cost you."

"Light, I don't have the money, 'kay? And if I'm late for school again, I'm going to get suspended." With that, the redhead tried to move passed the brunette, only to be blocked by him.

"Just think it over, Mail," he said with a smirk.

"Why don't you just stop harassing me? I'm not interested. Now let me fuckin' get to school."

Light rolled his eyes but backed off. "Pay up by the end of the week, or your ass is mine. Got it?"

Mail said nothing, finally moving around the brunette and exiting the shabby complex; he got to his car and shoved his key into the ignition. He cried out in frustration when his engine sputtered and died. "I don't have time for this shit," he murmured, placing his head in his hands. "How could I have…-?" He began to question himself, knowing that his mind was losing its ability to separate reality from his own tall tales. (Had he used this month's rent money to fix his car? No, maybe he didn't. But what was the money spent on? Games? No, he hadn't bought any in a while...) Why was it so hard to tell the truth?

With a loud groan, he got out of the car and kicked a pebble in a vain attempt to ease his frustration. He needed a ride to school. Then again, he could always call in sick like the day before; he could say he had the flu –_No_! It was already hard enough to tell fact from fiction.

He resigned to heading back inside and looking at the brunette apologetically. "Light? Look, man, I'm sorry for that little spat. I'll, uh, have rent to you by tomorrow. I promise. But… my car was stolen. Can I have a ride to school?"

Mail's car wasn't stolen. It had been parked just outside for about a week. Light knew this. He looked at the redhead skeptically and gave a nod. "Yeah, but you owe me. I want full blown, hardcore, my-dick-up-your-ass sex; you can't just blow me like last time." With that, he grabbed the redhead by the arm and dragged him outside. On the way to his own car, he caught sight of a red Camaro he knew to be the redhead's, though he said nothing of the matter; he'd known Mail long enough to see that he was a compulsive liar. "Oh, and Mail, I'll get you to school on time, but… you'll be late." He placed a hand on the redhead's thigh and smirked suggestively.

Mail only shrugged, but his mind was racing. What could he say when his tardiness was questioned? Perhaps he woke up late? No. Maybe he got caught in traffic? Or perhaps he got to school on time but wanted to piss off his teachers? No, none of that was good enough. Whatever lie he settled with, it would have to be grand, he decided –extravagant enough to take his own mind off of what he'd be doing with Light.

…

* * *

**/Yeah, that's the prologue. There might be more soon 'cause it's already pre-written and just needs typed, but it's not a priority. Oh, and I should probably say that the chapter length will vary, and, uh... Review./**


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** ANONYMOUS dot COM

**Summary:** Mihael is a bully at school who has lost faith in himself, humanity, and even God. Mail is a pathological liar who can't keep his stories straight. The two meet online and seem to get along, but their alliance can only last as long as they stay… ANONYMOUS.

**Disclaimer:** Plot is mine, characters aren't. Anything referenced is owned by someone other than myself.

**Author's Note:**Not much to say here, but... enjoy.

…

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE:**

…

Mihael stood in the bathroom, his own punctuality long forgotten as the tardy bell rang and ensured the consequences that would come from being late. But he didn't care; he needed a few minutes to himself. He took a deep breath and approached the mirror, eyes finding their mirrored remnants and narrowing coldly but, as it happened too often, his expression softened and he found those icy-blues staring in a scrutinizing manner –as if soul-searching. He placed his palms on either side of the single-serving sink and laced his fingers along the sides of the basin. His thoughts drifted and words left his mouth. "Yes, Mello, you are smart," he whispered.

What was this? A pep talk? Maybe, though he'd never openly expose such a thing. No, it was a private matter, and he needed to be alone for this. This was his own sort of metamorphosis. He'd transform from a product of a broken home to a predator that preys on weak-willed invalids.

"You can do anything, Mello. You are strong, confident. Your looks turn heads and your mind eludes the masses." Yes, Mihael was speaking to himself, dubbing his inner-self by a nickname his mother once called him.

An unconvincing smile broke across his face in a way that might remind one of unexpected acne the night before prom. Realizing how fallacious he appeared, the blonde relaxed his facial muscles and gradually upturn the corner of his lips, effectively replicating his usual smirk; then he closed his eyes half way and slightly arched a brow, forcing what appeared to be a sincere air of superiority and all-around cockiness.

"Well, Mello," he concluded his self-addressed speech with a suave tone, "let's put away these bitter thoughts and give the world what they're expecting from us. It's show time."

Another deep breath and slight adjustment to his posture, and he was ready. He turned and exited the bathroom, arriving in the main hall and exuding all the swag he could muster. He found three boys, two of which were Taz and Domino, his own personal lackeys; the third was a white-haired boy he didn't quite recognize. "Who's the kid?" he asked with a bored tone as he inspected the teen.

Never one to speak unnecessarily, Taz let Domino jump in with the explanation. "Yo, yo, Mihael, this bitch be our choice victim today. He's new –just transferred from that private school or some shit."

The blonde looked the albino over before shaking his head. "Well, fuck, he's perfect. I bet I can make him cry real easy, and he can probably fit in a damn locker, but…" that cocky expression faded into one of annoyance as he continued. "But I'm not in the mood to beat on him today. Actually, since I'm tardy anyways, I was just gonna play hooky and forge an excuse for tomorrow. "

Domino looked thoughtful at hearing this before shaking his head. "Alright, dude, you're the boss. Bounce if ya want, but I need to get my ass to Political Economics. I actually managed to get my work done, and I can't wait to see the look on the teacher's face when I turn it in on time." He grinned at his announcement, raising a hand and saying: "up top! C'mon, hi-five! Don't leave me hanging…" He lowered his hand and scoffed when no one joined his antics. "Fuck, man, I gotta get goin' to class. I'll catch ya later, Mihael." With that, he turned to run off, taking long strides as he headed to class.

Taz, as per usual, kept quiet, though he did release the pale boy he'd been silently holding captive. "Mihael," he said quietly, "I'd go if I could, but…-"

Mihael shrugged off the opening of the exposition, already aware of what the dialogue would entail. "I know, I know. Domino would get his scrawny black ass kicked if you weren't there to back him up."

Taz nodded. "He's smart, you know. Domino's GPA is really high. He just… does stupid shit."

"Tell me something I don't know," the blonde murmured before finally addressing the pale boy who would have been his victim. "You look like a sheep. Something wrong, Sheepy?"

"My name is Nate, and no, there is nothing wrong. Though, I do have a class to attend, so if you'll excuse me…"

And Mihael didn't wait around any longer; he turned away from Taz and Nate before exiting the school through the back doors.

* * *

Light and Mail pulled up outside; the car was parked and the two sat there for a moment, neither saying anything until the redhead's hand reached to open the door.

"Ah, not so fast, Mail. I know we got here later than expected, but you still owe me something for the ride, as well as the fact that I'm asking my father to cut you some slack on the rent money you owe." The brunette smirked and unbuckled his seatbelt. He pulled his legs up and turned towards the passenger before making a failed attempt to straddle the redhead. "Alright, sex in a car blows. There's no wiggle-room." He paused. "Might be more room in the back. What do you think?" He looked at the other male inquisitively.

"What do I think?" reiterated Mail. "Well, I think you're a sexually frustrated fat ass who's so uptight and bitchy 'cause ya can't get it up for your top-dollar whore of a girlfriend. And, I also think that you only take an interest in me because I'm about the age of your little sister, you fuckin' pervert."

Hearing this, Light was rendered speechless; he just sat there, practically in Mail's lap as he took on a dumbfounded expression and tried to sort through the messy allegation.

Before the brunette could get an intelligible word in, Mail shoved Light away from himself and tore open the car door, blowing a kiss with mock affection before running towards the back entrance of the school. He was going to be late, and his mind was already churning a few dozen excuses for him to use throughout the day.

Just as he was about to enter, he caught sight of a blonde heading in the opposite direction he was. He offered a fake smile and a casual wave. "You headin' out? Cool. I'm late. Just got back from an early dental appointment. Got my braces removed, see?" He bared his teeth and pointed at his perfect pearly whites that had never once been guarded by metal.

The blonde rolled his eyes and simply bypassed the redhead. "Whatever," he grumbled continuing on his way and stopping in front of the very car the redhead had just come from.

Meanwhile, Mail hurried inside, slipped his pants off and dropped them to the floor; then he ruffled his own hair and pretended to limp into the principal's office. "Sorry for being late. I got jumped by a couple of gay-bashing thugs. They stole my pants too," he said smoothly, gesturing to his plaid boxers and bare legs. "I would've been on time, but…-" he didn't even get the chance to continue his elaborate lie, for the vice principal told him to shut up and get his ass to class.

Mail waited to obtain the little green piece of paper that would permit him to class and excuse his tardiness before continuing his limp… just until he was a little ways away from the office. Then he walked with a normal stride and headed to his first class. It was Computer Science, and though it was a class that was usually for freshmen, he needed the additional elective, and he'd already had so many credits –enough to graduate a full year early –and so, this was a class he could sleep through and still get a passing grade; then again, if he wasn't tired, he could always get online… and play around with ANONYMOUS.

He got himself to class, placed the admittance slip on the teacher's desk and, rather than coming up with yet another reason to be late, he took his usual seat in front of a computer, and…

_**WELCOME TO ANONYMOUS!**_

_[RedAlert]  
__STATUS: Blow me, I'm bored._

* * *

Mihael talked to Light briefly. "So, you're telling me that the loser redhead owes you a sexual favor… because you dropped him off at school?"

To this, Light nodded. "Yeah, but I'm also convincing my dad to be lenient about Mail's lack of rent-paying. And, all was going well until Mail made some crazy accusations and shit."

The blonde rolled his eyes but refrained from being snarky otherwise. "So, why are you telling me this?"

"Because you go to school with him. And you're under 18. You could get away with doing things that I cannot." He paused before giving a smile that was meant to be charming but resembled that of a crocodile's. "Besides, you and I are friends, aren't we? Now get in the car."

"And why do you want me in the car?" Mihael was starting to get irritated with the brunette, but with his lack of friends, he wasn't too picky with who he bartered time with.

Still, Light answered. "Because we're going to the library. It's the only place that Misa won't come find me, and I'm bored as fuck right now."

A good twenty minutes passed before their conversation ended; they headed straight to the library, and while Light started to browse through a card catalogue, Mihael found himself drawn to a computer towards the back of the library.

_**WELCOME TO ANONYMOUS!**_

_[Amateur at Best]  
__STATUS: At library with friend. Need new friends. Kill me now._

Mihael did some slight editing to his profile, selecting a background and personalizing everything to his liking. After a while, he was about to sign out when a small blinking icon caught his attention.

_YOU HAVE [1] NEW FRIEND REQUEST(S)_

Having yet to make a friend on this site, he clicked _ACCEPT_.

_RedAlert IS NOW YOUR FRIEND._

…

* * *

**/Yep, that's the end of ch1. Ch2 should be longer and have some Mihael and Mail time, as well as some Amateur at Best and RedAlert time! Things will grow contradictive and I promise you'll be entertained! So, review!/**


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** ANONYMOUS dot COM

**Summary**: Mihael is a bully at school who has lost faith in himself, humanity, and even God. Mail is a pathological liar who can't keep his stories straight. The two meet online and seem to get along, but their alliance can only last as long as they stay… ANONYMOUS.

**Disclaimer:** Plot is mine, characters aren't. Anything referenced is owned by someone other than myself.

**Author's Note: **As promised, this chapter is longer than the others. Not sure how I feel about the way it's written, but... Enjoy.

…

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO:**

…

Mihael found himself curious about RedAlert, especially when he clicked on a green icon shaped like an envelope; the icon signaled that he had a Message waiting to be read.

_[1] NEW MESSAGE(S)  
__GO TO INBOX_

_Hello there, Amateur at Best! I'm RedAlert, but you can call me Matt. I see that you're new to ANONYMOUS. So, y'like it? It's pretty cool, huh?  
__Anyways, my name's Matt, and anything you might wanna know about me should be on my profile. If ya wanna know something else, just ask.  
__Oh, gotta go. Sorry. I'm gonna be late. And I have a bitchin' Bio test later.  
__Ttyl_

Mihael read the short message a total of three times; he had it memorized after the first time, and by the third skim, his brows were knitted together. "Uh, Light?" he said a little too loudly, earning a glare and a shush from the nearby librarian.

The brunette in question had heard the beckoning and made his way over to the blonde. "Yeah?"

"Read this," he nodded to the message.

Light did as told but found nothing out of place. "So?"

"Light," said Mihael, taking on an annoyed tone. "I _also_ have a _'bitchin' Bio test'_. Do you think it's a coincidence? Or… is it possible…- "

"Mihael, you're being paranoid. It's gotta be a coincidence. Whoever _Matt_ is, he's probably a whole country away or something. Now, do you need anything else? If not, I'm going to check out a couple classic Stephen King novels."

The blonde sighed but nodded. "Yeah, you're right. I'm being paranoid. Thanks, Light; you always seem to have a clear head for this shit. Besides, Matt's probably not even his real name, and he's probably a 50 year old creeper."

Hearing this, Light gave a chuckle and patted the blonde on the shoulder. "Sure, sure, that's possible. Just be careful, and don't put too much trust in him." He paused before drawing his hand back and quirking a brow. "Did you want me to check out a book for you too?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm supposed to do a report for Literature and Mythology. So, pick some form of fiction," Mihael instructed, eyes practically glued to the screen before him as his hands set to work at typing up a response to RedAlert.

_[To: RedAlert]  
__Hey. I'm new to this site, so I'm not sure what I think of it. And, to be honest, I'm a skeptic by nature, so I find it hard to believe that I'll learn much from viewing your profile. I mean, aren't profiles nothing more that posters of what we want people to know or think about us? Any and all of it could be a lie or half-truth. I prefer to learn things manually. So, maybe we can chat some time.  
__By the way, how was that test? Did you take it? Was it hard?  
__I was supposed to have a Bio test today, but… I skipped school, so I'll take it tomorrow.  
__Eh, that's it for now, I guess.  
__Catch ya later.  
__[SEND]_

The response was sent and Mihael sat back, placed a hand on the mouse and clicked onto _RedAlert's_ profile. The background consisted of various teen sensations, from popstars and tv icons to random displays of videos, pictures, and public journal entries, not to mention comments that had been made by literally hundreds of others. RedAlert seemed to be normal. Too normal. And to some extent, this fact pissed Mihael off.

He looked through the stack of pictures in RedAlert's Photo Gallery and found countless people and pets and scenes from wild parties, but… after a bit of examining, he found something off. Though there were a lot of photos, none of them were labeled with names and no two pictures had the same person in it. It was impossible to distinguish which person in which picture might be RedAlert; fuck, it almost looked like he might have taken random pictures from Google/Image and plastered them all over his damn Gallery –in fact, after a bit of thought, he was almost certain that's what RedAlert had done.

Realizing this and deciding that none of the information on said profile was legit, he grew both annoyed and curious.

* * *

Mail sat back in his chair and spread his legs, getting comfortable. From what he could tell, he was the only one in class with nothing to do. He was several assignments ahead of everyone else, and he was starting to wonder if he should start a new account on ANONYMOUS. He had just finished updating his older accounts and was now focusing on RedAlert, who had become surprisingly popular rather fast. He blindly accepted new Friend Requests and typed up a false Journal entry about a keg party he was attending this weekend.

_[RedAlert]/  
__STATUS: Can't wait to party. Need laid; willing to be on bottom. Anyone interested?_

Almost instantly, several of his alleged Friends posted comments, telling him to have fun at the party and wishing him a good fuck.

He caught sight of the New Message icon and clicked in.

_[18] NEW MESSAGE(S)  
__GO TO INBOX_

He skimmed and replied to each and every one, trying to keep up with some falsities while simultaneously creating new ones. Lastly, his attention was drawn to the message he'd received from Amateur at Best, whom had accepted his Friend Request and replied to his greeting.

He quickly typed and sent a reply. When he was finished, he felt eyes on him and could sense the presence of someone looming over his shoulder. Without looking, he said: "hey, Nate."

"Mail…" was the monotone repose.

"I knew you were transferring, but…-"

"But you didn't know I was transferring to this school –_your_ school to be exact."

And Mail smiled. "You should have said something," he said, turning to face the albino. "So, how's your first day so far?"

"First off, I did say something. I told you four times, but each time you were… well… busy being someone else. As for how my day has been…-" he didn't get the chance to finish as the bell rang, signaling that it was time for everyone to pack up and get going.

"Whatever. See ya, 'round, Nate," he said, signing out of ANONYMOUS, getting up, and rushing to his next class, leaving the pale teen to stand there, staring after him rather quizzically.

"Why… isn't Mail wearing pants?" The question went unanswered as the redhead made his way to Graphic Arts 3.

Once he made his way to Graphic Arts, he took on a forlorn expression, walked past the teacher and his fellow peers, wandered over to the back of the room and retrieved his supplies. From a bin, he obtained a linoleum block and a set of chisels and cutters with varied divots. He took his seat, sighed heavily and got to work, chipping away at the block until his chosen design began to take shape - he always was good with his hands.

While he worked, the students ignored him, as per usual, and the teacher walked up to him and knelt beside him. Unlike the last one, this teacher was female. "Mail," she said soothingly, "why do you look so sad today? I've seen you enough to realize that you only look depressed during this class. Do you dislike art?"

Mail sighed again, turning deadened eyes on her. "Mom was an artist. She's dead now. Died during a fire –tried to save her paintings. But the flames… they spread so fast. She had her hands on the canvas and, even though it caught fire too, she refused to let it go…"

The teacher gasped and put an arm around her redheaded student. "That's terrible. I'm so sorry for your loss. When did this happen? Do you live with your father? Are you okay?" The questions tumbled from her mouth; concern shown in her eyes.

"It happened when I was 7. My father left on my 8th birthday, so now I live with my uncle. And… I'm not okay. I'll never be okay. Get your fuckin' hands off me." His body tensed and went rigid; his hands –one of which held the linoleum block in place while the other pressed the blade of a cutter into its surface –slipped, causing the cutter to collide with his opposing hand and tear through his own flesh. Blood pooled instantly, running from his wound and raining onto the desk as well as his project.

The teacher drew away from him, eyes widening at the sight of blood. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Let me help you…-"

"No," he said in a sharp tone, getting up and abandoning his project in favor of grabbing up a handful of tissues and applying pressure to the injury. "I think I'm gonna go home early," he whispered, though he had no such intention.

The majority of the class paid no mind, already familiar with the way he tended to behave. But the teacher, she was new, and Mail was her first troubled student. Guilt and concern was evident, but all she could do was sit back and excuse the poor redhead from class. She didn't even bother to ask why he wasn't wearing pants. She simply stared after him as he trudged out of the room.

Once out of said room with the door shut behind him, he smiled contentedly, glad that his lies had been bought so easily. He decided to head to his next class, knowing that the teacher there wouldn't care if he showed up early. He walked in and saw Nate seated and taking notes.

Mail walked right in and up to the teacher's desk. He looked at the man seriously. "Sir, can I hang out here for a bit?"

"Mail? Why aren't you in your other class?"

"The new Graphic Arts teacher tried to molest me; I got scared and cut myself," he revealed the wad of bloody tissues that covered his hand.

The teacher gawked for a moment before nodding. "Of course. And, Mail… I understand how traumatized you must be… what with your mom in a coma and your dad in prison –and now _this_ – so, if you don't feel up to doing your report for Literature and Mythology, then… I understand. Is there anything I can do to help?" The teacher spoke quietly, trying to keep his voice low so that the other students would not hear and cause trouble for Mail.

Mail looked thoughtful before nodding. "Y-Yeah," he pretended to stutter. "It's been hard, but… with less schoolwork to do, I'm sure I'll manage, so thanks. But… I'm a little low on cash, so it's hard to pay the bills and put food on the table, y'know?" He placed a hand on his stomach and winced, as if having hunger pains.

"Say no more, I'm sure I can lend you a few bucks, how much do you need?"

Mail held back the smile that threatened to form; he was rather proud of himself… because now, his issue with rent money was solved, and Light would leave him the fuck alone for a bit. And with Light off his case, he would have more time to himself. More time to play pretend. More time... to be someone else.

Because, really, Mail -_the real Mail_- was a nobody. The real Mail had grown up as a poor boy with rich parents who had no time for him, so... he became someone else. Anyone else. Everyone else. He used to lie in bed, staring at the ceiling and practicing things he might say, twisting his facial expression to match what he thought would be appropriate. Because... if mommy and daddy had time for everyone except Mail, then... Mail didn't want to be Mail.

In some ways, the very name Mail had taken on a cursed existence, and the redhead found comfort in burying his true self, hiding away who he once was in favor of inventing a detached identity that would not get sad or lonely... and would always have the attention he so desperately craved.

* * *

School hours were over; Mihael had finally gotten home, only to find his stepfather, Beyond, passed out on the couch, surrounded by broken bottles of beer and jars of jam. He stepped over the wreckage of glass and overturned chairs and whatnot, making his way to the kitchen and to his mother's chair. He smiled at her photograph; it was smiling back at him too.

"Hey, mom. Miss me? Today's been hell. We got a new student. His name's Nate. I… almost beat him up, but I didn't. I bet you're really proud. I played hooky; I shouldn't have, but I did. I spent the day at the library with Light –he's cool; you liked him, remember?" He held up a book, as if to show it to his mother. "See this? Light picked it out for me. The Picture of Dorian Gray, by Oscar Wilde. It's a good book; I'm gonna do my Lit Myth (Literature and Mythology) report on it. Oh, and I've started an account on some new site or whatever. I know you never cared for computers, tv, phones, or any technology that wasn't used for cooking, but… I made a friend –sorta. I dunno." He fell silent, kneeling down, folding his arms upon the chair's cushion and resting his head on them. He kept quiet, breathing heavily and remembering the scent of his mother, the way she used to hold him, and the sound of her voice when she called him _Mello_ and talked to him about God.

But, his mother was so quiet these days. She didn't talk, not about God or anything else. God took away her ability to speak. God took her body. God took everything. But… God couldn't really take away Mihael's mom; he loved her too much to let go. She was all he had. He loved his mom.

He… hated God… for letting her die.

He… hated God… for making his father leave.

And… he hated god… for letting Beyond into his life.

He had no one. He had Domino and Taz, but… they were wrapped up the part of Mihael that liked to push people down, shove kids into lockers, give swirlies, and say hurtful things. They liked that part of Mihael. He had Light, but Light was only interested in the intellectual side of him.

But… Mihael was more than a cruel bully; he was more than an IQ. _Mihael_… was also _Mello_, and he just wanted someone to know that.

His thoughts drifted once more to ANONYMOUS. He remembered his only friend on that site. And, even if RedAlert was a liar, perhaps Mihael could use him, somehow. Maybe he could talk to _Matt_ about himself –about the parts of him that he couldn't show to anyone else. And maybe, in time, RedAlert wouldn't be such a phony.

Maybe.

With that idea in mind, he got up, wished his mother pleasant dreams, and headed to his room; he sat in front of the computer and…

_**WELCOME TO ANONYMOUS!**_

_[2] NEW MESSAGE(S)  
__GO TO INBOX_

_Trust me, ANONYMOUS gets better the more you use it.  
__And, I suppose you're right about profiles, though I've never thought about it that way. I look at it as a way to show the world what you could be, rather than who you are. It's purely for popularity, really. And yes, chatting with you would be cool, but I don't do Cybersex and I don't Skype. Those are too personal for my liking. That's why I like ANONYMOUS. I can talk to people... and they don't have to know a damn thing.  
__As for the test –wait. You had a Bio test too? That's… a coincidence. Let me know how you do when you take it.  
__And… fuck, I need to go. Got stuff to do.  
__ttyl_

… (second message)

_Oh, Amateur at Best, I never got your name. You know I'm Matt, so… what do I call you?  
Now, seriously, I've gotta go.  
ttyl_

Mihael read over both messages and became pensive.

He'd been right about RedAlert lying to him, so the name was likely to be fake, and none of the information on the profile would be legit. Right now, all he knew was that this person, whoever it was, had an account on ANONYMOUS, still went to school, and coincidentally was supposed to have a Bio test on the same day has him.

Fuck, RedAlert even dodged the question on how hard the test was, simply by stating the obvious and asking the same question in turn. And… then he sent another message, asking for a name?

Fuck that. Mihael's response would be simple and only a little more truthful than RedAlert's.

_[To: RedAlert]  
_… _You lie a lot, don't you? Is it fun? Do you get off on it? I bet you do. Regardless, this online relationship between you and I, should we mutually agree to continue it, can only serve to benefit me. I'm using you, whether you know it or not. So don't think your empty words can fool me.  
__Also, call me: Mello.  
__[SEND]_

* * *

The following day, Mihael made it to the bus stop on time and got to school with plenty of time to spare before the tardy bell rang. He headed straight for the bathroom, as he did most mornings. Only, instead of being alone to give himself a pep talk, he found that Taz and Domino were already there… in the handicap stall; both teens had their sleeves pulled up. Taz held a victim up, feet in the air and head in the toilet bowl; Domino simply laughed and pointed with one hand while the other flushed repeatedly.

Mihael sighed, needing time to get into character to hang with his so-called friends. "Guys, leave the kid alone. It's too early for this shit," he said heatedly, stepping back and crossing his arms as he fixed a glare on his lackeys.

Taz carefully moved their victim out of the swirly-position and laid him on the floor.

Domino simply shrugged and moved away from the toilet, approaching Mihael with a grin and a raised hand. "Yo, yo, up top –hi-five!"

The blonde rolled his eyes but his hand clapped against Domino's. "Seriously, during Lunch, we'll find Nate and take him out back by the dumpsters and kick him around a bit, but right now –it's so goddamn early." He was cranky and had dark circles under his eyes; he'd stayed up late reading that book Light had checked out for him.

Seconds ticked by and Domino spoke again. "Uh, Mihael… we might have a problem." He gestured to the teen they'd been victimizing prior to Mihael's announced disapproval.

Mihael followed Domino's gaze, only to see Taz kneeling over an unconscious redhead and attempting mouth-to-mouth. "Shit, he ain't breathing!"

…

* * *

**/Yeah, this chappie's done. Hope ya like it. Might be a few days before you see an update, but it won't take long to do, so… expect it. And please let me know if you're having a hard time following this. I've never really written a fic like this before, so… seriously, give me feedback. Review./**


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** ANONYMOUS dot COM

**Summary**: Mihael is a bully at school who has lost faith in himself, humanity, and even God. Mail is a pathological liar who can't keep his stories straight. The two meet online and seem to get along, but their alliance can only last as long as they stay… ANONYMOUS.

**Disclaimer:** Plot is mine, characters aren't. Anything referenced is owned by someone other than myself.

**Author's Note: **Stuff happens, try to keep up. We learn a lot about Mail in this chappie. And in the next, we'll learn more about Mihael. After that, there will be some progression between Amateur at Best and RedAlert.

**WARNING: **This chappie is NOT proofread, and I only HOPE it makes sense. The whole fic is pre-written in an old notebook that I haven't touched in ages. I remember a lot of what happens in the fic, and I typed this chappie with only half of my usual brain cells at work, so I HOPE it makes sense. If it doesn't, let me know, and I'll try to fix it.

…

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE:**

…

Mihael was nearly panicking as minutes ticked by with Taz trying and failing to revive the redhead. "Mihael, it's no good," he whispered finally, moving away from the victim's body and placing his head in his hands. "What do we do?"

"Ah, shit," whined Domino, throwing his arms about in a wild manner. "We gotta hide the body. Can he fit in a locker?"

The blonde shook his head, glared at his friends and told them to fuck off; they didn't listen –instead, they stayed close, trying to help or at least offer some form of support to their intellectual superior. "Do you even know who he is? His name?" Mihael examined the corpse-like figure, only to realize just how familiar it was. "Ah, fuck! Guys, I know who this is! Light is gonna be pissed!"

"Why would you worry 'bout Light, man? He ain't shit. Just 'cause he's rich and all, doesn't mean…-" Domino cut in, preparing the usual speech about how much he hated rich folk, but surprisingly, Taz interrupted him.

"Jeevas. Mail Jeevas. I know him," said Taz quietly, gaze glued to the floor as he backed up, ashamed to have possibly drowned an innocent teen.

Mihael groaned. "He lives in one of the apartments that the Yagami-family owns. I think Light and him had a _thing_ or something."

"Shit, man, what do we do?" Domino couldn't think straight. He didn't want to get caught at the scene of the crime. Then… "I've got it! We'll wait for the tardy bell to ring. Everyone will be in class, and with the halls empty, I'll go to the office and distract everyone from possibly coming out to see the commotion; Taz can handle the security cameras; and Mihael, you can take the redhead's body out back to the dump!"

Hearing this, Mihael groaned. "Domino, fuck you. You should know better than to pull this shit to begin with. It's your fault. You flushed."

"Taz held him in place!" countered the other teen.

Taz shook his head, guilt evident.

"Domino, Taz, just go. I'll handle this shit. Now… get going before I kick your asses and drown you the damn toilet!" Mihael belted the order and then knelt beside the redhead; he cursed quietly before attempting CPR. Beneath his hands, he felt a faint heartbeat, so he applied more pressure and pumped his hands against Mail's chest; after several compressions, he pinched the redhead's nose and brought their lips together, forcing the redhead's airways open with his own exhalation. He repeated the process, alternating his actions vigorously and, minutes later (though it felt so much longer), he felt the body jerk beneath him, and Mail sputtered and coughed up water.

Mail sat up rapidly, his own head colliding with that of the blonde, though he paid it no mind as he placed a hand on his chest and tried to steady his own breathing.

"You okay, Mail?" Mihael asked, his own hand nursing where his head had been bonked.

The redhead nodded in response to the question, but his head was spinning and his vision was blurred. He said nothing as he worked to compose himself.

The blonde sighed, eyes focused on the other teen. "If you want, I can give you a ride home; I know where you live."

"St-Stalker," accused the redhead in a semi-playful tone, giving a small smile afterwards.

"I'm not a stalker, dumbass. I just know that you live in one of the apartments that Light's father owns." He defended himself unnecessarily as he got up and reached a hand to grab Mail's, helping the redhead to stand as well. "So, do you want a ride, or not? I don't have a car, but Domino does, so...-"

Mail slipped his hands into his pockets, eyes roaming around aimlessly, looking at everything accept the blonde. "Well, I guess I don't really need to go home. But… I don't like being wet."

"You can borrow my gym clothes. At least they're dry," suggested Mihael.

The redhead nodded. "Sure. And thanks for offering me a ride, but… I had a bitchin' Bio test yesterday, and I kinda wanna know my grade."

Hearing those words, Mihael seemed paralyzed, eyes wide and body immobile. "Was… that Bio test… hard?"

The sudden interest in his academics caught Mail off guard, made him wary. "Well, it was bitchin'. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go have sex with the school nurse," he said arrogantly, striving to force aside a slight pang of paranoia that began to ebb away at his psyche. He walked past the blonde and exited the bathroom, trying to decide what to do about being cold and wet and, ultimately, he decided to steer clear of the blonde and his lackeys. They'd almost killed him for fuck's sake!

Mihael, finally left alone in the bathroom, made his way to the mirror, as he did most mornings. He pressed his palms to the sink and found his reflection, but… instead of practicing a smirk or giving his inner Mello a pep talk, he growled.

He hated what he saw; hated how much he looked like his mother, though he had his father's eyes and nose. He felt so out of place when he looked at himself sometimes. He just… hated seeing himself. He wanted to break the mirror, as he had done to every mirror in his own home, but… this was not his home. He didn't want to get in trouble for vandalizing shit. So, he settled for turning on the water taps, cupping his hands beneath the trickle of water, and splashing the cold wetness onto his face.

That would have to do for now, for time was not on his side and the tardy bell finally rang. He turned the water off and headed out of the bathroom and to his Forensics class. He entered late, flipped off the teacher, and claimed his seat. "I don't have my homework done. I didn't study for the test. And I don't even have a pencil," he said, sitting back and propping his feet up on a neighboring desk. He felt like shit, and he wanted the world to know.

The teacher scoffed and began a long lecture, to which the class groaned and Mihael paid no attention. The discourse lasted for over half of the period, and for the rest of the class, Mihael borrowed a pen and quickly covered a test with answers he was almost sure were correct.

When the bell rang, he turned in his paper, left the pen on the desk and headed to gym, making a pitstop at his locker to grab his gym clothes. He briefly wondered if the redhead was still wet; then he wondered if he'd gone to fuck the nurse or not.

He didn't dwell on the matter; instead, he headed for the locker room, stripped from his uniform and pulled on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Then he jogged into the gymnasium, deciding he'd find Mail during Lunch; it was only a couple classes away.

* * *

As usual, Mail had entered each class with a different personality and a fresh arsenal of lies. He gained sympathy and even some encouragement from the gullible fools that claimed their right to _teach_ him (_as if they could!)_

He worked his words and got himself excused from yet another assignment before walking out of class, claiming the need to go to the nurse's office.

He didn't quite go there; instead, he found Nate near the lockers, a hall pass in hand and a frown in place. He snuck up behind the pale teen and abruptly placed his hands on a set of slim shoulders before giving an excited hop and calling: "_Naaate_, you and me –tonight! We'll head out to the Yellow Box and dance, wha'd'ya say?!"

Nate was momentarily shocked by the show of exuberance but he easily willed apathy into place. "Mail, please calm down. You and I both know that you do not like the Yellow Box, nor do you enjoy dancing… or any sort of socializing, really."

"I socialize with you, don't I?"

"No, you don't. These past two days are the most socializing you and I have done since your dad quit his job and your mom…-"

Hearing the albino speak about him and his family in such a way caused a strange emotion to pass through the redhead's entirety. His eyes widened; his body trembled, and before he could stop himself, he found himself slamming his friend into the lockers repeatedly, words leaving his mouth faster than he could process them. "Listen here, ya little shit! You don't know nothin'! My dad works at a car dealership! My mom's a florist two towns over! And I go to a different club every night of the week!" He was shivering, though he wasn't cold; his insides ached, though he wasn't sure why. He opened his eyes, unaware that he'd even closed them; and he was surprised to find a fresh bruise forming on the pale teen's cheek.

The evidence was as plain as day. Mail had hit his friend.

Nate's eyes were closed; his heart was racing. He opened his eyes but refrained from making eye contact. He carefully moved away from the lockers and the redhead. He kept his mouth shut as he started down the hall, moving in a ghostlike manner as his grip on the hall pass tightened.

Mail ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out why he'd become violent with Nate; it was not his intention, and he'd never struck anyone before. He took a deep breath and briskly walked after his friend, catching up in a matter of seconds. "Nate, I'm… I'm sorry, okay?"

And Nate stopped, turning cold eyes onto a set of green ones. "Mail Jeevas, I have known you for years, and I've accepted the fact that you lie, but never lie to me about having legitimate concern for my person. Don't say _sorry_ if you don't mean it." And with that, he turned and headed to class.

The redhead was left to stand there, confused and maybe a little guilty. He couldn't tell if he was truly sorry or if one of his personas were sorry. Fuck, there were times when he had to remind himself of his own name and identity; his self-imposed corruption of reality made it hard to distinguish his own lies from truth.

In the end, what was the difference between truth and lie anyways? If people believed lies and found distrust in the truth, what could he do? Perhaps he'd buried himself a bit too far into his own charade.

But… there was no way out.

Even Nate seemed to be done with him.

Nate, his best and only friend from childhood… From back when things were easy.

His mom was a psychiatrist who worked with troubled criminals. His dad was an armed security guard who would tranquilize runaways with enough sedative to knock out a horse. Both parents brought in good money and had good morale, but their love for one another dwindled. To make up for their lost love, their work hours increased. This left them less and less time with their only child, who quickly grew rebellious, hoping to gain his parents' attention; he took up telling tall tales at first. But that didn't work; it only caused his babysitter to refuse to watch him. Then came daycare, but soon he was even too much for the certified women who worked there. Once they ran out of options, Mail's mom and dad took him to work.

It started off alright; the idea was legit. Mail got to see his parents during their free time, and he was happy. But it was soon found inappropriate to bring a child into such an environment. Regardless, Mail's mom and dad still brought him to work, but instead of letting him roam the halls or sit around with a handheld, they started to hide him… inside the closets while his mom talked with the crazies… and inside the cells with former child molesters when his father had to make rounds and patrol the corridors.

Again, things seemed okay, but neither the mother nor the father thought of the consequences that could come from this.

They never suspected that Mail had picked up lying to gain their attention. They didn't expect that he would listen in on the conversations his mom would have with the mentally unstable murderers and molesters and thieves; they never thought he would pick up new words, scenarios, and states of mind to play around with. And, just the same, it never occurred to them that young Mail would be touched inappropriately while locked up with three sex-offenders.

No good could come from this, but his parents were too busy to notice the changes in their own child. They didn't realize how he talked less and less every day, or even how he completely abandoned the games he once loved so much. They didn't notice a damn thing. And, one day, after he'd lied and '_cried_ _wolf'_ so many times, he actually tried to confess his troubles and tell them the truth, but by then… they were onto his little secret and no longer believed him.

By then, they knew he was a liar. And they called him just that.

That's when things got worse.

The one day he tried to be honest and was called a liar, that was the one day he gave up on being Mail completely. He was only seven at the time, but that didn't stop him from resolving his problem.

His parents stopped taking him to work, started making him stay with his friend Nate. Nate, by now, knew he was a liar too, but he never said anything about it; he played along. It was a like a game of pretend.

And when Near put his puzzles together and Mail reenacted violent scenes between two dolls, nothing was said.

But years had passed, and the friends grew apart –not because Nate went to a different school, but because Mail decided he was finished with reality.

Mail detached himself from right and wrong, fact and fiction. And when Mail smiled, it wasn't because he was happy; it was because he knew what the rest of the world didn't. He knew that Mail ceased to exist, and he had to force himself not to laugh when he wrote the name on a school paper or answered to someone who asked for him, calling him by the name he loathed so much.

Mail wasn't any more real than the fairy tales his babysitter used to tell him.

He was like the Steadfast Tin Solder. He was the Frog Prince and Tom Thumb. (_Fuck, he was the Little Engine That Could!)_ He was a bundle of lies brought to life in the colorful images that children were meant to identify with.

Mail was warped. As he grew into his teen years, faking online identities became one of many stress-relievers for him. By age fifteen, he was emancipated and left his parent's home.

And at age 17, he could be found going to school (just about to graduate), living in a crummy apartment, and spending every single day trying to be anyone and everyone who isn't Mail Jeevas.

He lives his life... ANONYMOUS.

* * *

Lunch time came around soon enough, and Mihael looked for Mail. Unfortunately, he found neither hide nor hair of him. He asked around, but nobody had seen him. Most people didn't even know his name, though his habitual lying seemed rather legendary by high school standards.

After a bit more searching, Mihael ran into the pale boy. "You're Nate, right?" he asked, frustrated and desperate to find out if the redhead was alright. (It's not that Mihael was nice, but he needed the assurance that his friends hadn't fucked up too badly –at least, that was his justification at the moment.)

The pale boy looked to the blonde with all the emotion of blank paper. "Yes, I am Nate. You are Mihael. And I would like to eat my lunch," he said coldly.

Mihael nodded, running a hand through his hair and looking down. "Sorry 'bout before, but it's complicated," he said.

Nate shrugged, reaching to grab a tray of food. "You don't owe me an explanation. Now, please let me eat."

"I'm trying to apologize, you dumb fuck!" Mihael shrieked, regretting his flair of anger the moment he drew attention to himself. He quickly lowered his voice. "I'm sorry, alright? Taz and Domino, they just expect me to…-"

"Why do you care what they think?"

And Mihael didn't have an answer for that. He opened his mouth, as if to reply, but no words came.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I would like to eat and then see what grade I received on my Biology test."

Being reminded of the test, the blonde subconsciously smiled. "The _Bio test_? I… haven't taken it yet, but I hear it's _bitchin'_," he said, mimicking the words that just seemed to linger on his mind.

"That sounds like something Mail would say," Nate murmured, grabbing his tray and walking away from the blonde.

It took several seconds for Mihael to fully process the words. "Wait, dammit!" he called, scurrying after the pale teen and knocking over several innocent bystanders in the process. "Do you know where I can find Mail?"

Nate's eyes were wide, thoughtful. Then, he shook his head. "No, _the Mail I knew_… isn't around anymore…" He paused for a small eternity, letting a hand caress the bruise on his cheek before adding, "but if you want to find to him… you might look in the Computer Lab. He hides there every chance he gets."

Mihael listened with furrowed brows, but he didn't waste time trying to decode the meaning of the words. He reached a hand to ruffle the albino's cocaine-colored hair. "Thanks, Sheepy, you're alright. And, after school, take the back way out so you don't run into Taz and Domino." With that, he pushed his way past Nate and headed straight the Computer Lab where Computer Science was held.

Upon entering the room, the blonde found only one occupant.

A redheaded occupant… in front of a computer. And on said computer's screen, he could clearly make out the words:

_**WELCOME TO ANONYMOUS!**_

…

* * *

**/I hope you followed this. It's a bit complicated; if you have questions or comments just ask. Next chapter promises to reveal more about Mihael and the past concerning his family life. The chapter after that will have some progression between Amateur at Best and RedAlert. That said… Review!/**


	5. Chapter 5

**Title:** ANONYMOUS dot COM

**Summary**: Mihael is a bully at school who has lost faith in himself, humanity, and even God. Mail is a pathological liar who can't keep his stories straight. The two meet online and seem to get along, but their alliance can only last as long as they stay… ANONYMOUS.

**Disclaimer:** Plot is mine, characters aren't. Anything referenced is owned by someone other than myself.

**Author's Note:** I kinda like this chapter, but it's not proofread. Errors are bound to be there. Try to bear with it, 'kay? But, if anything is too wonky, let me know and I'll try to fix it. –Oh, again, I hope this makes sense! If not, sorry!

**Author's Note II: **Ooooh, in this chappie, you get a glimpse at Mihael and his anger issues! ENJOY!

…

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR:**

…

The words were right in front of Mihael's face.

_**WELCOME TO ANONYMOUS!**_

Mail was a fuckin' ANONYMOUS-user! Blue eyes narrowed instinctively and his hands clenched into fists; Mihael's nerve endings were on fire, urging him to move, to attack, and push and to prod. He wanted to… -_Wait, wha_?

As the blonde crept up behind the redhead with all the stealth of the Beverly Hills Ninja, he found his unexplainable anger dissipating, mainly because the user's account information was displayed so innocently before his eyes.

_Email Address: PuppyWannaPlay1990 *at* tycoon . com  
__User Name: MetalCarbonite  
__Password: xxxx-xx  
__[LOG IN]_

"Come back to finish the job?" the redhead asked with a hint of sarcasm. "Not satisfied with almost drowning me in a pissy toilet?"

_[MetalCarbonite]  
__STATUS: Need 400 gallons of nitroglycerine? Just asking._

Mihael turned his attention away from the screen and focused on the redhead. "Mail, I… just wanted to give you… a proper apology."

Mail sighed heavily, signing out of his MetalCarbonite account and spinning in his chair a few times before stopping and making direct eye contact. Green eyes devoured blue and a sneer became etched in his features. "_Liar_, you and your friends are not sorry for what you have done."

And Mihael scoffed. "_You_, of all people, are calling _me_ a _liar_?" He flung his arms out in a theatrical manner, stressing his exasperation. "Fuck you, Mail –fuck… you!"

"Fuck me? Yeah? Well, your daddy already did! Fucked me real good! Left your momma too, didn't he?!" At this point, words were leaving Mail, and he knew the words were wrong. He wasn't lying to hide or protect himself; he was lying with the intent to hurt someone. And for once, he truly wanted to take back his words.

The blonde's eyes widened, but he was seething; his breath flowed erratically through his nostrils and his teeth were bared angrily; he acted on impulse, grabbing up a nearby chair to melee the redhead. "Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!" he was screaming at such a high volume, the hefty chair crashing onto Mail's form with every shout. "Fuck you!" he was chanting it like a mantra and punctuating his cry with additional wallops of the chair. "My father was _not_ a faggot! My father was a good man who loved me and my mom! And, unlike you, I don't lie about that shit!" The assault continued until Mihael felt a set of arms around his waist and the chair was pulled from his grasp.

"Whoa, Mihael, you need to chill. Shit, man, you're gonna kill him." The voice was familiar. Domino's, smooth undulating in pitch. And the person who'd seized the chair was Taz, with his surprising strength and sickly colored skin.

Those arms were still tightly wound around the blonde, and it took a moment for him to register what had even happened. "Ah, fuck, is Mail okay?" He forced himself out of Domino's hold and knelt beside the redhead, whom had toppled from his chair during the attack; said redhead was now on the floor, unconscious once more… with a telltale liquid oozing from a cut on his head; the coppery substance almost blended in with his hair.

Putting the chair down, Taz crouched down to assist Mihael in any way possible. "I think he'll be alright; he's not dead or anything… though, at the very least, he'll have a concussion. We should get him to a hospital or something."

Domino crossed his arms and made a sound of disapproval. "Nah, dude, let's just take him to the nurse's office. We'll tell that foxy nurse-lady that we found him this way."

Taz glared at Domino, clearly wanting to say something but not wanting to get into an argument with his friend. Domino didn't seem to care either way as he started to bicker and babble in a one-sided quarrel that received no retaliation.

"Will you two shut the fuck up?" Mihael said with a scowl as he tried to come up with a way to fix the mess he'd made. "Look, Taz, I need you to gather my schoolwork and find a way to get us excused for the rest of the day. Domino is going to take me and Mail back to my home for a bit so I can watch him for a couple hours to make sure he's gonna be alright. Okay?"

"Yeeeeah, boi!" cheered the dark-skinned teen, getting rather excited at being told to ditch school for the remainder of the day. "Yo, Mihael, grab up that bitch and let's bounce!" He seemed to be brimming with pep as he retrieved a set of keys from his pocket, jingled them a bit, and then raced out the door, calling back for Mihael to '_get his_ _white ass_ _out to the car_.'

"Mihael…-" started Taz, only to be interrupted by the blonde himself.

"I know, Taz. I… took things too far. I always do, but I never mean to. Shit, I fucked up."

Taz nodded but said nothing more. He got to his feet and picked up the redhead.

"C'mon, Taz. Help me get him to Domino's car. Then… just… tell the principal that Mail got sick, Domino had a family emergency, and I just ditched or something," Mihael instructed, gathering the few possessions the redhead had with him, mainly a trapper and a small stack of text books and notebooks.

The next several minutes consisted of Taz carrying Mail to the car before heading back into the school with a couple vague excuses with flexible details, and Mihael dropped Mail's books onto the floor of the car as he slipped in and slammed the door shut. Domino started the car and peeled out before his eyes darkened and his face tightened into a serious expression.

"Mihael… I know you have a tough home life. Fuck, we all do, y'know? But your bullying is getting out of hand. You could have killed him." As Domino spoke, his voice was deep and his grip on the steering wheel tightened. "I love ya, man, but… if you can't control your anger issues, Imma be all, like, not hangin' wit chu no more."

Those words and the meaning behind them only served to further anger the blonde; he stomped his feet childishly and glowered, turning in his seat and preparing to punch his friend. It took quite a bit of willpower, but he carefully unclenched his fist and turned away. "Domino, I fuckin' hate you, y'know that? Between you and Taz… and the whole damn school… I just get so pissed. Not my fault."

"Yo, man, it _is_ your fault," retorted Domino, eyes on the road and foot letting up on the accelerator as he turned onto a back road. "Your home life sucks. Mine does too. Get over it. Stop taking your anger out on others."

Mihael narrowed his eyes and pulled his knees to his chest, feet resting at the edge of his seat as he sat in the familiar way that his father used to. "That's not even fair to say, Domino. You know how things are, how hard everything is."

"Life doesn't have to be fair, Mihael."

"You're supposed to be my friend."

"Dude, this isn't some grade school bullshit. You actually _hurt_ someone." He gestured to the unconscious redhead in the back seat. "It was cool when it was just some verbal abuse and the occasional swirly, but you've gotten out of control," he said.

Mihael growled lowly as he heard this. "_You and Taz_…-"

"-_gave the redhead a swirly_. Nothing more. It just happened to get out hand; shit like that happens from time to time. But you, Mihael, you beat him with a chair. Can I ask why the fuck you did that?"

Mihael was quiet for several seconds as he tried to recall the reason behind his horrid actions. "Because… he said some shit… about…-"

"I swear to fuckin' God, Mihael, this can't keep happening. I know how you feel about your dad, but this is ridiculous. Go get some closure. You know where he is, so go see him." He paused, voice lowering uncharacteristically. "Y'know, before I started hangin' wit chu, I was going to join the basketball team. I was on my way to being valedictorian. I could have been someone… And, though you didn't push me into changing my behavior, you just have that effect on people. You ruin them…"

The remainder of the ride was absent of conversation, and when Domino realized this, he turned on the radio and the two of them listened to some random 90's rock music through crackling speakers.

They pulled up at a modest 2 story house with faded green siding and worn old shingles. "Thanks, Domino," murmured the blonde, getting out and hauling the redhead with him. "I'll fix the mess I made, alright? Just give me some time." He took a deep breath before adding, "I'm not sure how, but I'll make up for everything. I never meant…-"

"I know, Mihael… Just take care of the redhead and leave the rest to me and Taz. Things might be tough, but we're still your friends."

"…Thanks."

With that, Domino left, leaving Mihael to juggle Mail and his school supplies into the house. Once that was accomplished, he dumped the books and trapper on the kitchen table, carried the redhead to the living room, stepping over the glass and debris that littered the floor; he was glad to find the couch empty and he helped Mail onto it, making him as comfortable as possible.

He practically hovered over the redhead as he grabbed a first aid kit off a nearby stand and began to clean the opened wound. Once he finished he determined that it was not severe enough to require stitches and would heal alright on its own; then he went to visit his mother in the kitchen. He knelt by her chair, leaned his head on the decorative cushion and looked at the photograph. "Hey, mom. How are you feeling?" He fell silent after the question, as if he really expected her to answer, and like always, he felt a stab of pain in his chest when there was no response. "I'm home from school early. Brought someone home with me. I… I caught my friends picking on him, giving him a swirly, and… they almost drowned him. I helped him, but he was mad at me. I wanted to apologize properly, but… when I found him, I made some assumptions, he said some horrible things, and… I got mad. And you know what happens when I get mad, right mom?" he felt his arms wrapping around the chair, almost hugging it as his face nuzzled the cushion. His eyes slipped shut and he recalled the warmth of his mother once more.

He hated that she could never hold him again; he hated that he'd never get to stand in the corner and watch her do her hair and makeup –he missed that; he even missed how she would spray too much hair spray and he would choke on the mist.

"I… love you mom. I don't want to disappoint you, but things have just been so hard lately."

He thought of his mother once more, how she would smile so bright, even when she was battered and bruised at his own hands. He never meant to hit her. He loved his mom… so much. He just couldn't help himself.

When she'd offer him cookies and ask if he would grab a sweater for her, he didn't mean to get mad, tell her no, and smack her around. All the same, he didn't mean it when that open hand curled into a fist for the first time and hit her stomach –not once; not twice, but three times… effectively causing a miscarriage to what would have been his younger sister.

He remembered that time so well, how much pain there was, emotionally and physically. He remembered how, even after he'd hurt her and killed his sibling, she still hugged him and told him of her love. He remembered how his mom had lied to his dad. She kept all the bruises and even the miscarriage a secret from L, her husband… because he loved Mihael, and she didn't want to tarnish that love.

His mom was an amazing woman. She was so strong. She never got sick. She never needed to go see a doctor. And even when she was black and blue, putting on more and more makeup and covering up more and more skin to hide her secrets, she smiled so brightly and looked so beautiful. She never got mad; she never bore a grudge.

And Mihael's dad, how wonderful he was too, always coming home with candies and chocolates and cake. His name was L, and he was a police officer. He didn't always wear a uniform, but he always looked like a hero to his little boy.

L never questioned when his wife started acting strange, started to lock herself away and cry for hours, started praying more than before. She was always so emotional, wearing her heart on her sleeve and baring her soul to everyone willing to listen; that's just how she was; she was a good-natured woman. But when she cried, time seemed to stop and the world seemed cold.

L hated seeing his wife upset, but it seemed that the only time she smiled was when she was around their son, though the smile was always a sad one. He asked about it on numerous occasions, but he was never given an answer.

In the end, he decided to just make his family as happy as possible. Sure, he was away for work quite a bit, but he always made up for it by spending as much time with his family as possible, always bringing sweets, hoping to win their affection over and over, and he succeeded each time.

Mihael would wait up late at night, staying up way passed his bedtime with a book in his lap as he waited for his dad to come home. When L would walk in, the book would be long forgotten and a set of small arms would snake around his waist and his wife would walk over with a cup of coffee and a bowl full of sugar cubes.

It was nice, even if Mihael grew violent without much prompt. Mihael's mother loved him anyways, and his dad loved him too.

But one day, his mom _did_ get sick. There was never any warning. One day, she just didn't get out of bed. Instead, she just lie there, groaning in agony as she never had before. L and Mihael both came to her aid in an instant.

That was the first time L noticed the bruises. He asked about it, and his wife only cried, whispering that she loved her son and always would. And Mihael cried, but not because he was sad… because he was angry… and didn't know how to handle it. He swiped a bar of chocolate from his dad and left the room. He was mad, and he didn't want to hurt his mom… especially when his dad was around.

There was something incredibly taboo about it all.

Mihael locked himself in his room and consumed chocolate until he felt his anger dissipate; then he decided to check on his mom. When he reentered her room, his father was hunched over the bed, clutching a limp hand and crying.

Mihael's dad never cried before. Ever. His dad barely showed any emotion at all.

But that's when he knew something was wrong. Really wrong. He climbed up on the bed to get a better look at his mom, only to see his dad violently throw him off. His back hit the floor and he scurried back until he hit a wall; his eyes were wide and he couldn't understand why his dad had done that.

He stayed quiet as he watched the scene before him. His father… holding his mother's hand… and just… crying. And, after only a few minutes (though it felt like an hour, at least) he understood.

His mom wasn't waking up. And his dad, just like him, was angry too.

His mom wasn't dead then; no, she was in a coma. An ambulance was called, and she was taken to the hospital. L didn't go. Mihael was forbidden to go. When Mihael asked why he couldn't go see his mom, L simply said: "Because, if you saw her like that… and if she died… that's how you would remember her." He pointed to a framed photograph on the wall. "See that? That's how you should remember her. Young, pretty, and happy. Always smiling." And L smiled. And Mihael looked at the photograph, and he wanted to smile too.

But it was so hard to smile. Tears came from his eyes and he just let loose. He got up and grabbed the picture, throwing it across the room in a bout of blind rage. It was only when he heard the glass shatter that he realized what he had done and forced himself calm.

L said nothing as he cleaned up the mess and retrieved the photo. He grabbed Mihael's hand and led him to the kitchen; he placed the photograph on the cushion of one chair and sat the blonde child in the chair next to it. Then he handed his son a bar of chocolate before sitting down and biting his thumbnail. "Mihael… your mother loved you. Just like I love you. But one day, neither of us will be here. And when that day comes, I want you to do everything in your power… to help people."

"Is that why you became a cop, dad? To help people?" Mihael asked, snapping off a bite of chocolate.

When L gave a simple nod, Mihael looked at the picture and smiled. He truly believed everything would be okay. Somehow.

But months passed, and eventually, his mom came home from the hospital, only to find that L lost his job and Mihael's grades had dropped considerably. They lived on welfare and wore over-sized t- shirts and pants from Goodwill. They were both a complete mess without her. The most shocking thing she found was that both of the men in her life were sporting ugly patches of bruises in various stages of healing.

"I-I was mad, mom," explained Mihael, closing his eyes and running to hug her. "I'm so sorry."

"I missed you," was all L said, not bothering to defend himself… because his wife already knew… that Mihael had inherited his aggression from his father; L was just good at hiding his own hostility.

Another month passed with Mihael's mother being back home, and things seemed to be alright. Mihael's grades improved and L got a job at the post office. The violence seemed to lessen as well. All seemed favorably pleasant until L confessed his love for another woman. He still loved his wife and son, but his heart just didn't beat the same anymore. Soon after, he left, promising to stay in their lives.

Mihael's mom stopped going to church when L left. And Mihael learned for the first time what desperation was.

Not having the help she needed and requiring money to pay bills, luxuries were sold until their house was mostly bare. The hardest part for the blonde child was not having excess chocolate around the house, but he sucked it up and tried to help his mom. He loved her, just as she loved him.

And one day, his mom brought home a man. Mihael was so excited at first… because at first glance, the man almost resembled L. Perhaps it was the pale skin and the dark hair, the lanky stature and the habitual thumb-biting, but… there were differences. Subtle, save for the drastic contrast in the eyes.

"Mihael, this is Beyond; he and I have been seeing each other for a while, and he'd like to be your new dad. We went to the courthouse and made it official." She flashed a ring on her finger.

But Mihael would hear nothing of it. The man smelled like strawberries and had a creepy smile. The man didn't carry chocolate and he sure as hell wasn't going to replace the father he grew up with.

From the very beginning, it was a strained relationship with Beyond trying to do father/son activities and Mihael going out of his way to mess things up. The two became so wrapped up in each other that they didn't notice Mihael's mom getting sick again… until one morning, Mihael woke up late for school, confused as to why his mom had let him sleep in. He ran to her room to yell at her… because he didn't want to miss the big math test that he'd studied so hard for. He got to her room and jumped on her bed, eyes narrowed and lips parted, ready to scream. He clenched his fist and prepared to hit –not because he wanted to… but because he was so angry, and it was easier to act on impulse than not.

Although he was angry and ready for violence, something stopped him that day. Maybe it was the smell, or maybe the chill that radiated from her body. Perhaps it was the glassy look in her eyes or the way her stiffened hand clutched that rosary she wore.

All that Mihael could really be sure of was… that he loved his mom, and she was no longer breathing. She was cold and lifeless. He pried the rosary from her and held it to his chest; he read the single word engraved in it –_MELLO_ –and he began to cry.

Beyond came in when he heard the crying. "Shouldn't you be at school?" he asked, leaning against the doorjamb and peering in.

"Go to hell!" shouted Mihael, still clutching that cruxifix as a sob tore through him.

"That's no way to talk to me. Your mom…-"

"_Is dead_! Now fuck you!" he yelled, cursing as he never had before and clambering off the bed; he raced into the kitchen and knelt next to that chair –the same one that _still_ held that photograph of his mom. "Don't leave me, mom. I never meant to hurt you. Why'd you leave me? Why'd God take you? I… I need you. I don't wanna be alone."

Later that day, the corpse was removed and Beyond found Mihael sleeping with his arms around the chair and his head on the cushion. He thought about waking the child but didn't; instead, he sat in the next chair over and opened a jar of jam. He would miss Mihael's mom, but he wasn't heartbroken over her death. He loved her, but he was not _in love _with her. Regardless of such trivial matters, he planned to help Mihael through his crisis. He contacted all the right people and filed for custody of the boy.

Over the next several years, Beyond tried to help his stepson, but Mihael was always either quiet, angry, or kneeling before a chair, trying to talk to a mother who was no longer there. It took quite some time –years, even –but even Beyond seemed to feel the weight of the situation. He was a man with a deceased wife and a stepson that hated him. He grew depressed. And soon, his life consisted of going to work, eating jam, trying and failing to talk to his stepson, and sleeping.

The house was a wreck, holes in the walls and broken beer bottles that littered the floors. If an outsider were to walk in on this, it could be believed that Beyond was a depressed alcoholic, but… in reality, not one of those bottles were from him. He ate jam to numb the pain; Mihael's the one who preferred the bottle –started drinking at age 15. And, after all he'd been through, Beyond hadn't the heart to deny the kid his vice.

* * *

Mail woke up with a splitting headache. He sat up and everything seemed to spin. When everything stabilized, he looked around, wary; he didn't have a clue where he was or how he'd gotten there. He slowly got to his feet and glass crunched beneath his shoes. "Need to get home…" he said groggily, stumbling out of the room and into what appeared to be a kitchen. He caught sight of two people sitting at the table; one familiar blonde and an unfamiliar raven. Both males sat hunched over, one holding a now-empty beer bottle and the other dipping his fingers into a jar of jam.

"Your friend is awake," said the dark-haired male.

The blonde scoffed. "He's not my friend; he's just some nerd from school."

The redhead placed his fingers to his temple, rubbing gently in a vain attempt to ease the dull throb. "I, uh, should probably get home…"

"Need a ride?" asked the raven, pressing a jam-coated finger to the table and etching a sloppy red smiley face.

"If he needs a ride, I'll take him," grumbled Mihael. "I know where the dumbass lives, so it only makes sense."

"I can walk home," said Mail, shoving his hands in his pockets and shifting uncomfortably. He didn't like being in unfamiliar places, and at that moment, he wanted a cigarette.

"I insist," said Mihael, getting up and looking to his stepdad seriously. "I'm gonna take Mail home. Tell mom I'll be back later, and… don't touch my shit or I'll kick your ass."

Hearing this, Beyond chuckled lightly. "Just get going, Mihael. And wear a helmet this time."

"C'mon, Mail," demanded the blonde, grabbing the redhead by the arm and proceeding to drag him out of the house. "And don't worry about your books and stuff; I'll bring 'em to school for you tomorrow."

Mail followed wordlessly, brows knitted together to display his confusion.

They wandered out and to the garage, stopping next to a teal and silver custom cycle, all polish and chrome with a sissy bar and leather seats and intricate graphics lining the tank.

"Grab a helmet," Mihael said, stealing two helmets off a shelf and handing one to the redhead. "Seriously, if we wreck, you'll probably die." As he said this, he slipped on a helmet, blue to match the bike.

Mail gawked at the bike for another moment before putting the proffered helmet on as well. "You know how to work this thing, right? It's not like a car, y'know…"

"Shut up and get on the bike before I kick your ass."

At this, Mail rolled his eyes, watching Mihael slip a leg over and straddle the motorcycle before mimicking, getting on behind him and wrapping his arms around the blonde's waist.

The ride itself lasted a little over a half hour since Mihael insisted on taking the scenic route. He loved the bike; to him, the bike meant freedom. The wind hitting his face and the world passing by, it was better than flying, he thought. And the feel of the motor running, numbing his legs after he'd been on it too long, even that was magical. But mostly, he loved the purr of the engine, so sweet and so loud, like a needy lover that smelled like leather and diesel.

The bike pulled up into the lot just outside the apartment complex Mihael knew the Yagami's owned. "Home, sweet home, huh?" said Mihael, killing the engine and swiping his keys from the ignition. "Alright, time to get off." He paused, waiting for the redhead to do as told, only to find himself grit his teeth when his order was not followed. "Fuck, don't piss me off. Move your scrawny arms from me and get the fuck off my bike!" His temper was starting to flair, which was never a good thing.

In response to this, though, Mail only whimpered, keeping his arms tightly wound 'round the blonde's waist.

"This is what I get for being nice to you? Just let go and get the fuck off!" He didn't want to harm the redhead, and he really didn't want to risk hurting his bike either, but his body tensed up, and he could feel that familiar heat rising in him, daring him to get physical.

Luckily, just before Mihael's anger could soar enough for him to act on it, Mail did relinquish his hold and slip off the bike. "Sorry 'bout that. I, uh, well, I'm scared of dying. And Auntie BunBun always said that motorcycles were '_screaming, metal deathtraps'_."** (A/N: Auntie BunBun is a friend of mine on Fanfiction. I borrowed the nickname!)**

Mihael listened to the pitiful excuse with an expression of disbelief before rolling his eyes, securing the bike's kickstand and getting off. "Whatever, Mail. Just get inside and once I make sure you're gonna be alright, I'll get out of your hair."

"I'm fine though," Mail insisted.

The blonde ignored the redhead's words, already taking long graceful strides into the building and looking for the correct apartment number. Mail tagged along, brain accelerating, trying to come up with a good excuse to keep the blonde from entering his home. Much to his dismay, he was unsuccessful by the time they arrived at number C-4. Mail unlocked and opened the door before entering with Mihael following close behind.

Mihael immediately scoped out the place and compared it to his own. Unlike his own, there wasn't an abundance of broken glass, chocolate wrappers, and utter filth; no holes decorated the walls –nothing of the sort. It was mostly bare with white-wash walls and very little furniture; there was a small card table with poker chips and empty Energy drinks resting on plastic coasters; there was a couch, a chair, a tv, and a laptop. Aside from that, nothing. Not even a kitchen table to eat at.

"Excuse the mess," Mail said, bounding to the fridge and coming back with two colas. He sat in a chair and pulled his laptop onto his lap before turning it on and waiting for it to boot up. While he waited, he popped the tabs on the drinks, sipped one, and set both cans on the floor by his feet. "If ya want a drink, help yourself."

Mihael seemed reluctant, reaching for the can that hadn't been sipped from, only to have his hand nudged by Mail's foot.

"Uh, both of those are mine, dude," explained Mail. "Go get your own."

The blonde rolled his eyes before sitting on the sofa and looking around. "So, what do you do for fun?" he asked with a bored tone, feigning disinterest.

Mail appeared thoughtful before giving a response. "Well, it's complicated. I do the same thing for fun as I do when I'm not trying to have fun."

"And… what's that?"

As Mail accessed his laptop, opened a browser and clicked into a familiar site, he gave an answer accompanied with a mischievous grin. "Honestly, I like to fuck with people. I like to tell them _my version_ of the truth."

"So, you lie? For fun? Fuck that shit," Mihael grumbled, crossing his arms and looking annoyed.

"But it's so much more than that. Haven't you ever… like… had a day that you wanted to erase? What if you had a memory so foul that you couldn't bear to live with it? What if the only way you could deal with life… was to do it over, reinventing it in your own head?"

Mihael mulled it over before shaking his head and getting to his feet. "You're one twisted fucker, Mail. Had we met on better terms, I might have gotten along with you."

Mail shrugged. "Uh huh, same here. Now, before my mom and dad get home, please leave."

"You don't live with your parents, Mail. This apartment clearly accommodates one or two people –most likely, you're the only occupant."

Mail smiled crookedly, emerald eyes glinting and reflecting the light from the laptop's screen. "You're not like everyone else. You don't believe me, even when you have no proof that I'm lying."

"I'm a skeptic by nature."

"Oh yeah? Well… I bet I can make a believer out of you by the time we graduate."

"Doubt it."

"Don't test me; I'll do it."

"Liar."

"Bastard."

"Bitch."

"Skank."

The name-calling continued while Mihael pulled his knees to his chest and while Mail played on his laptop. Though insults were slung, there was no bite behind the words and, before long, both teens sported twisted smiles and had lost track of time.

It grew dark outside and it was decided that the blonde would just sleep over. And when Mail's eyelids became too heavy to stay open, he sauntered off to bed, leaving Mihael in the small living room. Quickly perking up at the redhead's absence, Mihael ventured to the kitchen to fetch a cola; he returned to the living room and took the redhead's former seat, pulling the laptop close, only to find…

_Email Address: SubmissivePup1 *at* tycoon . com  
__User Name: RedAlert  
__Password: xxxx-xx  
__[LOG IN]_

_**WELCOME TO ANONYMOUS!**_

_[RedAlert]  
__STATUS: Just got home. Have a guy over. Mmm, I'm THROBBING! –Also, big party tonight! My place! BYOB!_

_[To: Amateur at Best]  
__Mello? That's a unique name. I like it. As for what you said about me lying, well… everybody lies, don't they? If I told you that I didn't lie, then I'd be lying, so… should I claim to be a liar and in doing so be honest? What is the proper response to something like that? No idea. But, allow me to offer you a quote:  
"There are Trivial Truths, and there are Great Truths. The opposite of a Trivial Truth is plainly False; the opposite of a Great Truth is also True."  
__[SAVE AS DRAFT]_

…

* * *

**/Surprisingly long chapter! Woo-hoo! Questions? Comments? Concerns? Review, suckas!/**


	6. Chapter 6

**Title:** ANONYMOUS dot COM

**Summary**: Mihael is a bully at school who has lost faith in himself, humanity, and even God. Mail is a pathological liar who can't keep his stories straight. The two meet online and seem to get along, but their alliance can only last as long as they stay… ANONYMOUS.

**Disclaimer:** Plot is mine, characters aren't. Anything referenced is owned by someone other than myself.

**Author's Note:** Borrowed some names from friends! Sorry for not being creative enough on my own!

**Author's Note II: **Hope this makes sense. If not, let me know, and I'll try to fix it. -That said, enjoy!

…

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE:**

…

Mihael stared at the words –_User Name: RedAlert_ –not sure what to believe at that point. He knew Mail had an ANONYMOUS account; he'd seen it with his own eyes, but he thought Mail was _MetalCarbonite_ or some shit like that. Then again…

"_What if you had a memory so foul that you couldn't bear to live with it? What if the only way you could deal with life… was to do it over, reinventing it in your own head?"_

He recalled Mail's words with perfect clarity. Then, he actually thought about it. If he could do things over by refabricating events in his head, then the peace it brought would be a false and temporary shield from what had really happened. The small happiness conveyed by the lie would be gone quickly –too quickly for one desperate enough to lie in the first place.

Then again, maybe that's why Mail was always lying, always having some form of impractical wit burning at the tip of his tongue. Perhaps Mail was always chasing that thrill. And, to keep up with the number of lies he wanted to spread –the sheer variety of truths to the same situations that he could come up with –he would need multiple listeners who would not make the connections; he would need different identities. False identities. More lies.

A plethora of bullshit.

In short, Mihael decided that it wasn't so strange for Mail to be both _MetalCarbonite_ and _RedAlert_. Though, now that he'd ascertained this, he needed to decide how to respond to this awareness.

Should he expose his knowledge to the redhead and see what the outcome would be? Should he keep it to himself and continue to try being nice, using the small bits of truth he could dig out of RedAlert's untruths to help him along in his endeavor? He could always just make a game of it, giving subtle clues that would eventually let Mail know that the secret was out, but if he did that, what would transpire and would the consequences be worth it?

The more Mihael thought about it, the more conflicted he became. In the end, he decided to just go to bed; he'd come up with the answer to his conundrum in time, but for now, he'd play it off as if he knew nothing.

He shut down the laptop and put it away before getting to the couch and laying down; he got comfortable but found himself restless.

Because Mail Jeevas was RedAlert. RedAlert was going by the alias: Matt. And Mail Jeevas was also MetalCarbonite. Mail Jeevas was a tenant to an apartment that Light's father owned, and he occasionally paid in sexual favors. Mail Jeevas got good grades at school and received sympathy, encouragement and admiration from all the teachers. Mail Jeevas was friends with an albino named Nate. Mail Jeevas. Mail Jeevas. Mail Jeevas.

Mail. Fuckin'. Jeevas.

That's all the blonde could think about. And when he closed his eyes, he could almost hear that insufferable laugh, see that toothy grin and those large emerald eyes. In his mind, he tried to keep track of all the lies he'd heard from Mail, but there were so many, and unfortunately, curiosity was getting the better of him.

His thoughts drifted, though they still remained on the redhead. He stopped contemplating the lies and began to deliberate what truth he could salvage.

Eventually, sleep claimed him.

….

Morning came around and Mail was up and ready by 5:00 AM. He'd lounged around with his laptop for most of the morning, and he'd just finished lacing and tying his boots when Mihael opened sleep-bleared eyes.

The blonde groaned tiredly, sitting up and rubbing his eyes; he looked around, taking a moment to register where he was and why. "So… what time is it?"

"It's 7:15. I'm leaving at 7:30, so if you wanna go with me, you should probably get ready," said Mail, picking up a number of empty beverage cans (mainly from sodas and energy drinks) and discarding them into a recycling bin.

Blue eyes narrowed slightly, but the tiredness Mihael felt seemed to lessen the harshness of the glare. "I don't have anything to change into, so I guess I just need to do my hair and I'll be ready."

The redhead rolled his eyes. "You've got a few minutes. Shower, at the very least, and you can borrow my clothes; we're close in size, so…-"

"I'm not dressing like a nerd."

"Don't fuss, or I might _not_ take you to school. And no offense, but I'm sure you have a test in Psychology, don't you?" As he spoke, he rummaged around the living room until he found a pack of cigarettes. "Oh, sweet Jesus, I've been craving one of these so bad," he lightly traced his tongue along the filter before wrapping his lips around it; then he brought a lighter to it and took a deep drag; afterwards, his entirety seemed to relax and he smiled.

Mihael watched the spectacle with a quirked brow. "First off, I have my bike; I can take myself to school, you dolt. I just usually take the bus 'cause the price of gas went up. –Second, how the fuck did you know I had Psychology; I've never told you what classes I have. And third, you smoke? For real? Or is that one of your many facades?" His questions were legit, though the answers were unnecessary; he was merely trying to see if he could coax a bit of honest from him.

"Fuck your screaming metal deathtrap. –As for how I knew you had Psychology, well, you seem like the sort to take interest in the more challenging classes. Plus, you just offered a vicarious affirmation, stating that you have Psychology. And… I started smoking at age 8," Mail said casually, sitting on the couch and stretching out comfortably. "If you don't believe me ask my therapist."

Mihael rolled his eyes, ignoring the comment about his bike and Psych class in favor of focusing on the rest of what was said. "You might have started smoking young, but you don't have a therapist."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, 'cause you're a liar, and quite a convincing one at that. So, if you told a therapist even a handful of your crazy lies, surely you'd be locked up –or at least medicated."

And Mail chuckled lowly, putting out his cigarette as a smile crawled across his face. "You're clever, aren't you? Now, we're running low on time. Go shower. Now."

"Don't tell me what to do, Jeevas, or I'll fuck you up."

"We're resorting to last names, are we?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Mihael Keehl… Or, should I say: Mihael Birthday?"

Hearing his real last name substituted with that of his stepfather, Mihael's anger peaked once more and he lunged at the redhead, surprised when his fist failed to make contact. "Y-You actually dodged me? Fuck! Hold still so I can kick your ass!"

The next twenty minutes was filled with banter, some of it witty and some of it not; along with the mockery came the trading of blows and the display of skirmishing. A semi-playful brawl ensured and what had seemed so trivial before was long forgotten.

Their fun came to a halt with the presence of knocking.

Mail looked at the blonde before shoving him in the general direction of the bathroom. "Seriously, go get cleaned up; we're gonna be late anyways. I'll get the door."

Reluctantly, Mihael sauntered to the bathroom and locked himself in, intending to strip down, shower, and get ready.

Mail answered the door, finding Light on the other side. He rolled his eyes at the brunette. "If you're asking for the rent money, I have it."

"Oh, no, Mail. I'm not here for the rent money… I'm here for _you_. "

"Come again?" asked the redhead, stepping aside as if to allow the brunette to come in.

Light took the initiative, stepping in and closing the gap between himself and Mail. "Yeah, I'm here to pick you up."

"For school?"

"No," Light placed his hands on Mail's hips and leaned close, smirking. "Not for school, Mail. Actually, I was just recently talking to your mum..."

"You talked to her? what about dad? How've they been? Mom still an alcoholic? Dad still trying to pimp out my little sister?"

Hearing this, Light chuckled. "You really shouldn't lie so much. You'll only confuse yourself. If you keep this up, you'll start to believe your lies, won't you? You won't know what is real… and what isn't. I bet you can't even remember your parents' names or occupations."

"Mom's a bus driver," Mail said without missing a beat. "Her name is Lena, and she wanted to be a nurse but couldn't afford the necessary schooling. My father's name is Vincent James; he's a janitor at a company called Excel." **(A/N: Borrowed the names from special people. You know who you are. *smile*)**

Light only laughed harder. "You're good, y'know that? It's hard to tell if you're lying or if that's what you really think."

The redhead shrugged before moving away from Light. "Doesn't matter, does it? The world is exactly as I want it to be. If I wish to change it, I need only to say the right words."

"Mail, Mail, Mail… You're so fucked up, it's almost sad. Let me help you. Let me show you what you've been missing. I can do that, if you let me. I can show you the reality you've been rejecting."

Mail shook his head and walked away, grabbing his laptop and taking a seat as he waited for Mihael to finish his shower; he grew quiet, listening to the distant sound of running water.

But Light wouldn't take no for an answer; he didn't like the redhead brushing him off so easily. He moved closer, grabbing and tossing the laptop to the floor where it crashed unceremoniously. "I spoke to your mum. She's a psychiatrist named Analise Jeevas; she has a large file on you, and I might have taken a little peek at it." By now, he was practically straddling the redhead in the chair.

Green eyes stared in horror at the laptop as the screen flickered and color began to bleed. "That laptop's not cheap; the documents and photos are irreplaceable –I created a number of programs –and I didn't have any of that shit backed up…" his voice was barely a whisper. He wasn't looking at the brunette that held him in place; his mind was solely focused on his beloved technology. "There was no need to do that." His voice grew shaky and his breathing became irregular. He blinked several times and his vision became blurrier with every flutter. "I don't feel so well." His last words were barely audible croak before his eyes slipped shut.

Lightly only chuckled. "Mail… Open your eyes and pay attention to me," he instructed in a stern voice coupled with faint amusement. "I want you to see and feel me. I want you to know exactly what I'm doing while I'm doing it. I'm not going to let you hide from anything anymore. Come back to me –back to the reality you've rejected for so long."

With a sound of discontent, Mail found his eyes open and staring into honey-colored portals to hell. "Please, Light… I –I just wanna go to school. I wanna see Nate. I-I…" his words trailed off and all thought left him as he bucked his hips and bit back a moan. "I don't want this…"

Having a firm grip on the redhead and cupping him through his denim confines, Light leaned close, offering words with a seductive tone and malicious intent. "Yes, you _do_ want this, don't you? You had _no_ problem offering your sweet ass to me in place of last month's rent, right? So how is this any different? I know all the sounds you're capable of making, and I'm not the only one, am I, you deceptive little slut?"

"I-I want you to leave, Light."

"Do you? Is that what want, Mail? Can I call you _Mail_ –or are you pretending to be someone else right now?" He coaxed the redhead into a state of arousal before licking the shell of his ear. "I know your secrets; I know just how fucked up you are. I plan on reminding you of everything you've made yourself forget. I have a pretty good idea how to do that, but don't worry; I don't want your diseased body. I have no desire to stick my cock up your AIDS-ridden ass."

Taking a deep, shuttering breath, Mail tried to push the brunette away; he opened his mouth to yell, holler and scream, but the grip on him tightened and Light's opposing hand clamped over his mouth, preventing anything more than a muffled groan.

"I'm not going to rape you, if that's what you're worried about," said Light with an erroneous smile. "That would be _wrong_." He paused, removing his hand from the redhead in favor drawing an involuntary whine of unwanted desire to seep from the mouth and through his fingers. "Now, I'm going to remove my hand, and you're going to come with me, right? We won't be long, and I'll even drop you off at school afterwards."

After taking a moment to compose himself, the redhead sighed in defeat and nodded. As promised, the hands left him and Light moved off his lap; he tried to ignore the uncomfortable sensation of the material straining his semi-hard erection. "What do you want, Light?" he asked, trying to keep his voice from wavering as he got up, approached and inspected his laptop.

"I just want you to take a trip with me."

"Where to?"

"Down Memory Lane."

"Don't be a smartass; I'm serious."

"It's a surprise."

"…Fine."

Mail and Light could no longer hear the sound of running water, which could only mean that Mihael's shower was done.

Light smirked as he called aloud: "Mihael, I'm taking Mail to school. See ya later!" With that, he grabbed the redhead's hand and proceeded to drag him out of the apartment. With almost no resistance, the brunette ushered the redhead to an awaiting van; the exterior was TARDIS-blue with brightly colored peace signs and handprints decorating it; the interior was vinyl with cliché shag carpeting and glow-in-the-dark stars attached to the ceiling. Fuck if it didn't look like a party-van from the late 70's. "Like it? Every ride's a festivity all its own."

"It… smells like weed."

"C'mon, Mail, you of all people should know that we can't all be saints."

"I just… never pegged _you_ to be a pothead."

"_Stoner_ –get it right. And I only smoke on special occasions."

Silence. Then… "So, what's it like? Are you baked right now?"

"Nah, I had a few hits earlier, but the high didn't last long." Pause. "Misa's girlfriend got me started; it's a blast. Hit after hit just kinda… well, it makes ya feel calm; makes shit so much easier to handle."

"…Misa had a girlfriend?"

"Had? Nah, she _still has_ a girlfriend. We have a rather open relationship, if ya know what I mean. I'm just a pretty face to help her reputation, and she's a booty call when I want sex with no strings attached."

"Oh."

"Y'know, for a pathological liar, you're pretty gullible. I mean, isn't it ironic that you're the one known for lying, and yet, I haven't spoken a word of truth throughout this whole conversation."

"…"

…

The ride in the van was uneventful, save for Mail shifting uncomfortably and trying to ignore the acrid odors while Light sang along to some songs by Ozzy Osborne. They pulled into a parking lot and Light assisted Mail out of the vehicle. "Recognize this place, sweetheart?" Light said with a soft mocking tone, sweeping his arm out in a display of grandeur.

Mail ignored Light's words as he looked at the rundown building that stood before them. The roof looked ready to cave in; the windows were busted and boarded up; the door was nonexistent –torn from the hinges with only splinters left behind to remind bystanders that it had even existed in the first place. Graffiti decorated the walls and debris littered what once might have been a garden of sorts. Green eyes surveyed his surroundings and nothing was even remotely familiar. "Light, where the fuck are we? Are you sure you don't wanna just rape me and get it over with? I should be at school."

The brunette shook his head, smiling pleasantly and taking the redhead by the arm, leading him towards the building. "Believe it or not, you spent a great deal of your childhood in this dump," Light said, walking in and grabbing a thick folder from an old table that once stood on four legs but now balanced on three. He flipped open the folder and skimmed through some papers. "Alright, Mail, let's play a game. Consider this the Intro –and, no, you do _not_ have the option of skipping it." He paused and flashed a rather cruel smile. "The main hallway still holds the bloodstains from that time you ran in here, covered in blood after killing a stray dog –Remember? According to the file, you blamed it all on Nate, but were still holding the knife when you told your tale and little Nate was a whole town away." He pointed to his left and added, "oh, and it's in that bathroom that you hid away, hoping that your dad would come looking for you out of concern; he didn't even look, did he?"

Mail scrunched up his nose and furrowed his brows. "I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about," he said, looking around for anything that might have been vaguely familiar.

Light simply rolled his eyes and led the redhead further along and into a back room that had once been lavish, with faded lilac wallpaper and green carpeting and a unique array of furniture. "This was your mother's office before she transferred to another field of psychology and this place became condemned. She used to lock you in that closet over there with nothing but a Gameboy and a flashlight. But you entertained yourself in other ways, didn't you?"

"Light, I don't know what you're talking about. I'm gonna go, alright? I'll give you the rent money after school today, and then… I dunno." With that, he turned to walk away, his mind flooding with thoughts of finding new living arrangements and getting away from the grasp of the brunette and his wealthy family.

But Light wouldn't hear of it; he caught Mail by the back of his shirt and yanked, quickly shoving him into the aforementioned closet and sliding the deadbolt into place. "Stay in there for a minute, Mail. Think about all those horrible things you did. Think about all those lies you told. And… then… think about why you did it. It was all mummy and daddy's fault, right? They didn't have time for you, did they? You were so lonely, weren't you? You just wanted them to notice you like they noticed their crazy patients, huh?"

Mail growled out in frustration at being locked in a closet. He hadn't a clue what Light was talking about but he felt anger building within his very core. He tried in vain to open the door, but… there was no knob on this side –so he opted for thrusting his shoulder into it, though that attempt was futile as well. Eventually, he pressed his back against a wall and slid down, eyes closing and breath hitching. He felt around on the floor and his fingers wrapped around something cylindrical. He grabbed and felt it up, hitting a button when he found it. A light came on –he'd found a flashlight that miraculously still worked. He looked around and his heart raced.

The walls were closing in.

"L-Light? I-I'm… claustrophobic." He was beginning to panic. The flashlight slipped from his fingers and made shadows dance along the walls that seemed to move closer and closer; he hugged his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth with small, jerky movements.

Mail was stuck. Mail was scared. Mail was alone in a place he never thought he'd see again. But Matt? Matt was gone. Matt was free. Matt was anyone and everyone Mail ever wanted to be.

The redhead's breathing slowly calmed and his sporadic motions came to a halt. His mind seemed empty; he couldn't think –then again, he didn't want to.

He waited for what seemed like hours, but the door never opened, and Light's voice never reached his ears.

* * *

Mihael's angry stomps could be heard echoing through the halls of the school. He quickly located his two usual lackeys. "Fuck you two! What kind of friends are you?! After yesterday, I thought you'd at least leave the kid alone!" The blonde was beyond pissed, and his eyes were blazing with the fury he fought to hold back. His hands curled into fists and before he could think better of it, he landed a blow to Domino's abdomen - not once or twice, or even three times; his fists just kept hammering into the one friend he'd always confided in, knocking air from his lungs and causing him to fall into a crumpled heap. "You worthless piece of shit! Mail-fuckin'-Jeevas is off limits! Y'hear?!" With that, he turned his attention to his brawny friend, eyes narrowed into menacing slits. "Where the fuck is he?"

Taz shrugged, not seeming the least bit worried by the blonde as he knelt down and picked up the quivering teen that concluded their trio. "Mihael… Calm down. Domino and I –we haven't touched him, or anyone else for that matter. Haven't even seen him around." With that, Taz looked to Domino's battered form, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Domino seemed to calm down after a moment, though he made no move to leave the grey teen's arms. He simply fixed a weak glare on the blonde. "Yo, man… Fuck. You. I didn't do shit, and… I've tried, okay? I've been there for you through thick and thin, but I'm done. This shit –gettin' accused and smacked like a bitch –it ain't worth it. For once, Mihael, your friendship… isn't… worth it." He pursed his lips and pushed against Taz's chest, signaling the desire to be put down. Once on his feet, he turned away and walked off, not bothering to look back.

Mihael grit his teeth, but his resolve was firm. He wasn't going to go after Domino; he was going to find Mail. Still, his sight drifted and caught hold of Taz whom, for once appeared rather distraught; his expression held a softness that Mihael had never seen before.

"Mihael, you're like a brother to me, but… unlike Domino, you don't need me. You've been through hell and back, and it's your own fault your life sucks. But… Domino didn't ask for his mother to become a raging alcoholic; he didn't ask for younger siblings that require his care and need help to avoid drugs and gang activity; he didn't ask for his dad to show up and threaten to bring the authorities in. Don't you get it? Everyone has personal problems. That doesn't mean the world has to cater to them. That's why you'll never hear me bitch and moan about my problems. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go find Dom and make sure he's okay. If I don't, one of the jocks are liable to beat his ass for something or another." And, just as Domino had moments ago, Taz left.

And Mihael looked around, seeing the vast and empty hall. And just like so many times before, he found himself alone.

His dad had left. His mom had died. Mail was gone. His friends walked away.

No one cared.

And while Mihael should've been sad, he just felt fire coursing through his being. He felt angry. And fuck if he didn't want the world to know. He hurried down the hall, kicking walls and lockers as he passed them; he shouted in blind rage and pulled at his hair; innocent bystanders cowered away from him –and that's just what he wanted. The more pain he saw in others, the less pain he acknowledged within himself. And though he knew his logic was faulty, he didn't see the need to change it.

It wasn't more than five minutes before he found himself held in place by two officers in uniform; the principal stood a few feet away with a disgusted look plastered onto his face.

"Mr. Keehl, what's gotten into you?" the principal asked, arching a brow and crossing his arms.

The blonde just jerked and squirmed, trying to get out of the officers' hold. He spat towards the principal and smirked when his saliva coated the man's shoe. "Mail. Mail Jeevas," he said in an indecipherable tone. "I have a bad feeling about him. Just make sure he's okay."

"Mr. Jeevas called in sick today, though he sounded fine so he's probably lying. And… I'm sorry to say this, Keehl, but I'm afraid your behavior as of late has become unacceptable, and…-"

And Mihael stopped listening. He had a bad feeling, and his intuition was almost never wrong. But because he tended to be emotional at times, people weren't listening. And because Mail was often tardy and almost never honest, nobody bothered to question his absence.

"F-Fuck all of you," Mihael shouted angrily, kicking and flailing and managing to get free. He instantly pulled back and jammed his elbow into the nose of one officer before punching the other square in the jaw; then he took off running.

He left the school, fleeing before the authorities could catch him. Something was terribly wrong, and he was gonna find out what it was. He ran until he reached the local library. He hurried in and looked around, relieved to find Light returning the novels he'd borrowed. He crossed the threshold and placed a hand on the brunette's shoulder. "Where's Mail?" he asked in a hushed tone, being surprisingly mindful of the quiet tone set by his surroundings.

Light looked at the blonde, staring into his eyes and gauging the amount of concern. "Don't ask me. I don't know. I was driving him to school and we had a nice little chat. I caught him in a few lies, and he got mad. He pulled the Emergency Brake, got out, and left. I didn't bother going after him. Why? Isn't he at school?"

Mihael stared at Light for a long hard minute before his fist collided with that pretty face, knocking Light into a bookshelf and causing it to fall into another… and another… and another –like dominos. Books were everywhere, and a rouse of commotion began, starting with worried readers beginning to scurry and continuing with an angry librarian trying to locate the source of the problem. But the blonde paid them no heed. "I don't believe you," he sneered, grabbing a fallen book and clubbing the brunette in the head with it.

Light held his arms up, shielding his face and head as the book crashed into him multiple times. As soon as he found a pattern to the blonde's rather methodical assault, he dodged a blow and head-butted his unofficial opponent. "Calm down," he said with a cold tone. "I dropped Mail off where his mom works; she's a sweet woman who missed her son. I did nothing wrong, faggot."

Mihael held his head, trying to ignore the throbbing sensations that devoured his attention. "Don't call me a faggot –especially when you're every bit as much of a homo as I am."

The brunette ignored Mihael's words, simply walking towards the angry librarian and offering an apologetic smile. "Sorry for my friend's outburst. He's having a tough time at home, but I'll be more than happy to help clean up and pay for any damages done." He knelt down and began to pick up a stack of books.

The librarian adjusted her glasses and smiled. "Oh, you Yagami's are so kind and charming. What would this town do without you?" She and Light shared a laugh while Mihael walked over and knocked the stack of books from Light's hands before making an exit.

He didn't believe Light, and he wanted to find Mail as soon as possible. And, he knew of one surefire way to do this. But could he do it? Could he really reach out and contact the one man who'd left him so long ago? Could he ask for help... from his father: L?

* * *

_[Amateur at Best]  
__STATUS: Looking for RedAlert. Help?_

_[To: RedAlert]  
__You there? I thought you said that you used this site frequently. Please respond.  
__[SEND]_

* * *

_[To: RedAlert]  
__Hey, it's been almost a week. You busy?  
__[SEND]_

* * *

_[To: RedAlert]  
__Hey, it's me again. Remember? I'm Mello. Message me, alright?  
__[SEND]_

* * *

_[To: RedAlert]  
__Where the fuck are you?!  
__[SEND]_

* * *

_[To: RedAlert]  
__Talk to me, Matt.  
[__SEND]_

* * *

_[To: RedAlert]  
__You're starting to piss me off.  
__[SEND]_

* * *

_[To: RedAlert]  
__Okay, so I'm not pissed; I'm worried. I'm not good with my emotions. Never have been, and that's not likely to change.  
Sorry.  
__[SEND]_

* * *

_[To: RedAlert]  
__So, it's been almost three weeks.  
I guess you're not going to answer me on this site.  
Sorry for bothering you.  
__[SEND]_

* * *

_[To: RedAlert]  
__Did I tell you? I got kicked out of school. I lost my friends too.  
I don't have anyone left to lean on, so… Whatever, I guess.  
__[SEND]_

* * *

_[To: RedAlert]  
__A month. A whole month. There's something horribly wrong here, Matt.  
__[SEND]_

* * *

_[To: RedAlert]  
Six months, man. Talk to me. Even if you only speak in riddles and lies.  
[SEND]_

* * *

_[To: RedAlert]  
Just wanted you to know... that I'm not giving up. I don't know if you're avoiding me, or if something happened, but I'm not a quitter.  
I know it sounds pathetic, but I don't have anyone else to talk to. They all left me. I hate to say this, but in some sick and twisted way, I need you.  
And I'll find you. That's a promise, Matt.  
[SEND]_

* * *

It had been a year and eight months since Mihael had seen Mail or heard from RedAlert/Matt. Light still made his usual trips to the library, which had been completely remodeled with a generous donation from the Yagami-family. Mail's mother never responded when questioned about her son's whereabouts. Nate didn't know anything either –all he could say was: _'The Mail I knew was long gone anyways._' And oddly enough, Mihael's anger gradually subsided, seemingly replaced by a sick obsession with finding the redhead.

At home, in his room, Mihael took in his surroundings. Sticky notes covered the walls, each containing information for online accounts from ANONYMOUS and various other sites, all of which had been thoroughly searched in favor of contacting Mail. Pictures littered his desk and floor –most of which were clipped from school yearbooks. Maps with scribbles and X's all over were strewn about here and there. Names were written all over the visible parts of wall, courtesy of sharpe markers.

Names. So many different names and aliases the redhead was found to have used.

_Mail Jeevas. Matt. RedAlert. MetalCabonite. MotherKnowsBest. SexThisPup. CanISeeThat. HackThatShit. UltimateGAMER. _Etc.

A knock sounded on his door and he looked up with weary but hopeful eyes. BB stepped in, careful not to disturb the mess around him that the blonde swore held some form of organization. He dropped a chocolate bar next to Mihael and knelt beside him. "I've become very worried, Mello."

"Don't call me that," he hissed quietly, grabbing the chocolate bar and ripping the foil off. "And since when the fuck do you carry chocolate?"

"I'm trying to comfort you. But if it displeases you, I shall not offer you candy or call you by such a kindred nickname."

Silence. Then…

"You smell like a wino. Why don't you shower?"

"Why should I bother?"

And BB smiled. "Because I know how much this quest means to you. I know that you planned to ask for help but could never find the courage to do it. So, I took the incentive and asked for you. And... L will be here shortly."

* * *

Meanwhile, a particular redhead sat on the floor, shoulders hunched and eyes practically glued to the small screen of his handheld. A woman stood behind him, running her fingers through his hair in a soothing manner. "Aren't you happy, Mail? I know how you love your games. If your father was here, he'd be so proud. But... he didn't share this vision, did he? He just couldn't see the big picture. And now, look how happy you are."

No response.

"I'm so glad to have you back. And this time, you won't leave me. You won't lie to me either, will you?" Pause. "What about you, honey? Are you pleased with our arrangements?" The woman spoke softly, smiling sweetly as her attention turned towards another male.

A young brunette man looked up from his research paper and smiled at her. "Yeah, I'm happy. But after everything is finally settled, you're going to help me, right? I helped you deal with your deadbeat husband; then I brought your son home. Now you owe me. That was the deal."

"Don't worry; I keep my promises, Light."

…

* * *

**/*grin* Questions? Comments? Concerns? REVIEW!/**


	7. Chapter 7

**Title:** ANONYMOUS dot COM

**Summary**: Mihael is a bully at school who has lost faith in himself, humanity, and even God. Mail is a pathological liar who can't keep his stories straight. The two meet online and seem to get along, but their alliance can only last as long as they stay… ANONYMOUS.

**Disclaimer:** Plot is mine, characters aren't. Anything referenced is owned by someone other than myself.

**Author's Note: **Good News: Chapter's up early. Bad News: No proofreading; I'll probably have to go back and edit it later, but I'm too laaaay-zeee to do it now.

**Author's Note II: **Confession! This fic was going to be a lot shorter, but at the request of a friend, I've lengthened it, so I hope that any and all additions fit in with the original content. If anything ends up too wonky, please let me know and I shall try to fix it. That said, enjoy (and try not to be too critical on my errors).

…

* * *

**CHAPTER SIX:**

…

Mihael stood in the kitchen, freshly showered with his rosary at hand. He glanced towards the faded and dusty photograph that sat on the floral-printed cushion; he reached over, setting the rosary beside it and brushing his fingers against the face of the smiling woman, peeling away the layer of dust that had settled. "Mom… dad's coming to visit," he said, speaking softly, tenderly. "He hasn't been around since he got his new family. Are you nervous? I think I'm nervous. But… he used to be a cop; he might know how I can find Mail."

BB walked into said kitchen, opening the fridge and retrieving refreshments before heading to the table. He place two bottles of beer in front of Mihael and opened a jar of jam for himself. "Mihael, try not to get angry while your father's here."

"I don't get angry anymore," the blonde grumbled, grabbing and popping the top off one of the beers. He titlted the bottle to his lips and chugged half before sitting it back on the table. He looked around with disinterest. "We should have cleaned up a bit."

To this, the raven said nothing, simply dipping his fingers into the red sticky substance that he craved so much.

A soft knock rapped the door and the atmosphere seemed to thicken immediately.

"That's him. That's my dad," murmured the blonde, staring at the door with visible apprehension.

B simply nodded and brought a sticky finger to his lips, flicking his tongue out to taste the blood-colored spread.

The door opened, and there he stood in all his majestic glory. Hunched shoulders, empty eyes, pale skin, wild black mane, and oversized clothing. This strange man looked at the two men before him and offered a crooked smile. "Mihael, it's been a while."

Mihael closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he did so. "I-I'm sure Beyond did not ask you here for casual pleasantries. And, quite frankly, you abandoned mom and me, so I don't want your bullshit, L."

Hearing this, L's eyes darkened and his fingers twitched, but other than that, there was not the slightest sign of distress. "I know. I just thought, since you and I have fallen apart, perhaps I could use this as an opportunity to get to know you again."

"No," was the blunt answer. The blonde did not elaborate; he merely crossed his arms and glared at his half-drank beer. "I just want you to help me find a guy named Mail Jeevas."

"I am already familiar with the Jeevas-family. One of the earlier cases of neglect I had to deal with during my career in law enforcement; unfortunately, the child could not be removed from the home due to a few technicalities."

As Mihael listened, he shrugged with an air of false nonchalance and glanced at his stepfather. "Uh, Beyond –erm, uh… _dad_, rather –would you please give me and… L… some space?"

Having heard his stepson call him dad for the first time, BB smiled widely, reaching a hand to ruffle blonde tresses before nodding and respectfully making an exit, taking his jam with him.

L just stared at the blue-eyed boy that was his son –the boy who was growing into a man. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you like I said I would be," he said, approaching the table and taking a seat.

Mihael's eyes widened instantly and he let out a loud shriek, practically leaping over the tabletop (spilling his beer in the process) and roughly shoving his father from the chair to the floor. He clambered off the table and knelt beside the chair. He looked at the now-crinkled photograph and drew in a shaky breath. Then he glared at the man he once called father. "You… You sat on _her_ chair. Mom's chair. Mom's picture. You already left when things got hard, and now you're going to take this away from me too?!" his voice had risen in pitch and cracked with emotion. "Forget this! This was a mistake. I'll find Mail on my own –No, better yet, I'll find Mail with B's help! B didn't leave –not even when things got hard."

"Mihael, please. I meant no harm," L said, getting up and reaching towards his son. "I want to be here for you."

"You can't be."

L placed a hand on Mihael's shoulder as their eyes met. "Why not? People make mistakes –and my mistake was leaving."

The blonde shrugged the hand from his shoulder and scowled. "Well, my mistake was thinking that you could help. You have a lot of growing up to do before I will even consider having you in my life."

"Give me a chance, Mihael. Your mother would want you to." He pulled the blonde into an awkward hug and held tight, refusing to let go. "Your mother would tell you to try to get along with me. She'd hug you, just like this, and she'd call you: Mello." He pulled away and looked to the floor. "So, wha'd'ya say, _Mello_?"

Hearing the nickname made Mihael flinch, but it also brought back memories of his mom. And, even though the photo wasn't in perfect condition, he still remembered her smile so clearly. "L… I'm not ready to have my dad back… even though that's something I've wanted since I was little. But, I might have room in my life… for a friend, if you're interested." And, like his father, his gaze travelled to the floor.

The two stood in silence, subconsciously mimicking each other's stance as only congruent genes would allow, for several excruciatingly long seconds before the tension began to evaporate.

Then, Mihael went to the fridge and grabbed himself another beer, gesturing to the still-unopened one on the table. L took the hint and grabbed it for himself. They shared an beer and discarded the bottles before the blonde focused on what mattered most to him. "Tell me everything you know about the Jeevas-family. We'll start our investigation there."

* * *

Light sat in a chair as he filled in charts and added to his research paper. He was starting to get agitated, but he persevered, keeping his goals and priorities in mind. The door to his office opened and a woman walked in. "Good morning, Analise. How's Mail today?"

"Mail is fine. He's in the playroom, playing Kid Icarus on his Gameboy. He thinks I'm in the kitchen making cookies. Sweet boy, really."

The brunette sighed and dropped his pen onto the desk. "Analise, please tell me that you know this is wrong."

"What's wrong? I'm being a good mother, aren't I?"

"Well, yeah, you're pretending to be a good mom, and you're doing a great job at it, but…-"

"I'm not pretending."

"-But, you do realize that your son is turning 19 in a few weeks, right?"

"So?"

"And, you don't think it's wrong that you are keeping him locked up, repeatedly telling him he's 8 years old again? His mind isn't in the right state to begin with, and I think you're really going to fuck him up." Light looked at the older woman seriously.

Analise scoffed before pointing to the charts and papers that were spread across the desk. "But, the research is paying off! And it's not like we're harming him. He's happy."

"He's drugged, and you're manipulating him."

"He's my son."

"And he's supposed to be an adult."

"Fuck you, Light."

"And… that's what got us into this mess to begin with, isn't it, Analise? You couldn't stay faithful to your husband. And somehow, that entitles me to be dragged into your disgusting plans."

"Light, I don't have time for this right now. My son is only a few rooms away, and he thinks I'm going to bring him cookies in a few minutes. Now, while I'm spending time with him, continue to document his regression."

The brunette sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Alright, I will. But only because I need you to fulfill your end of the deal. Now, what goal are you trying to accomplish by the end of the month?"

And the woman smiled, moving over to Light and slipping into his lap. "Well, I'm going to get him comfortable, give him the affection he needs, and then I'm going to betray his trust. I want to make him cry. Crying will decrease his stability, and if I comfort him during the early stages of vulnerability, he'll look past the hurt I've caused in favor of earning more attention." She laughed manically before adding, almost as an afterthought: "if all goes well, he should regress by another year within the next six months. The only thing that concerns me is my son's lack of speech, but at least he's not lying, right?"

"Ana, you're so sick, using your own son to prove a theory to your colleagues."

"Yeah? How am I the sick one when you're fucking me and my son?"

"I fucked him one time, and you gave me permission to do it. Now, stop being a slut and let me finish the damn paperwork."

…

Mail sat in the playroom, Gameboy in hand. His thumbs tapped rapidly at the buttons and his eyes never left the screen. One might think this to be normal, but then again, this redhead who wore a brightly colored t-shirt and matching shorts wasn't exactly a child… and his Gameboy wasn't turned on –though he didn't seem to acknowledge anything faulty with the situation. He simply sat there, back facing the door and eyes on the dim screen.

He would be patient. Mummy would be coming any moment with a plate of cookies. Daddy was never around anymore. Light visited a lot, though.

He heard the telltale sound of his door being unlocked, and he looked from his Gameboy in time to see the door opening.

"Mail, sweetheart, did you miss me?" Analise walked in with a warm smile but… no cookies.

The redhead looked at her with confusion in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words left him. He simply dropped his game and reached his hands towards the woman.

Analise approached and wrapped her arms around her son, pressing her lips to his forehead in a show of affection. "I burned the cookies, Mail, but I'll bring you ice cream later. Alright?" She pulled away from her son and looked him over. "Are you happy? Do you love your mum?" she cooed to him, running her fingers through his hair.

As usual, he didn't verbally respond. His stomach growled; his mouth was dry; and he was tired of being allowed access to only three rooms –his bedroom, the bathroom, and the playroom.

"Mail, your birthday is coming up in a few weeks. Is there anything special you want? I could throw a party."

No response. Nothing but green eyes wide with bewilderment. He looked to his Gameboy, then back to his mother. He made a meek sound of discontent.

"Did your battery die again, Mail?"

Mail gave a slow nod; he thought of a number of things to say, but his mom had warned him about being careful with words, and… he didn't want to disappoint her.

"I'll take care of that for you, sweetheart. Why don't you go take a nap? You can watch Jurassic Park until you fall asleep." She snatched the Gameboy and slipped it into her pocket before seizing Mail by the hand and leading him from the playroom to the bedroom. She helped him into the racecar bed and pulled the Power Rangers blanket over him. She turned on the tv and slipped a VHS into the VCR. Once the movie began to play, she walked back over toward the bed and looked at her son. "Have a nice nap," she said before kissing his forehead and turning to walk out of the room; she locked the door behind her and sighed in frustration. Then she headed back to the office.

As she walked in, Light looked up at her. "So, did you make him cry yet?"

"Later. These things take time. I can't rush something as complicated as re-conditioning his mind. When he wakes up, just walk in and give him his medication –can you do that for me?"

"Again, Ana, this isn't right. You can't keep doing this to him. He's not some chalkboard you can write on and erase every day."

"Light, our research proves otherwise. Don't you get it? We are on the verge of proving that humans are like programs; they can be written and re-written. This project will put us on the map, Light."

"Whatever, Ana. Just make sure to keep your end of the deal."

…

Mail laid in bed, not at all tired. He stared at the ceiling and listened to the sounds of screaming that came from the RCA tv that sat several feet away. He shifted and tugged at his blankets, sighing as he tried to ignore how his long legs hung off the small child's bed.

Nothing seemed right, but his mom was happy, and he should be too, right?

He recalled many times when he just wanted to see her smile at him. He remembered so many times he would try to hug her, only for her to shove him away and tell him that she was busy.

But… he was glad to feel her arms around him. He liked listening to her tell him stories before bedtime. He even liked when she'd hold him down and tickle him, but… something was amiss.

Every part of him seemed to be at war. He wanted to be happy, but he wasn't. He had all these thoughts about being older, going to school, and carrying out various activities. Those thoughts seemed like memories, but his mum and Light both assured him that they were nothing but dreams produced by his over-active imagination.

He sighed quietly, looking around at the abundance of stuffed animals, remote-controlled trucks, GI Joe's, and whatnot.

After a few more minutes, he gave into his restlessness and got up, slipping on a pair of Pikachu slippers and moving to turn off the tv and VCR. Then he sat down and grabbed a stuffed Bowser. He looked at it almost fondly before putting it back and looking towards the door.

He knew he was locked in. He knew his mummy just wanted him to be happy. But… he just couldn't find it in himself to smile for her.

In the end, he reclaimed possession of Bowser and lay on the floor, stretching out comfortably and holding the stuffed toy in one arm while a digit of his opposing hand made its way to his mouth.

Mail fell asleep sucking his thumb.

* * *

Mihael ran a hand through his hair and groaned loudly. "So, you're telling me that you can't legally investigate the Jeevas-family?"

L shook his head. "No, the police will not do so without sufficient evidence. And, in case you have forgotten, I stopped being a cop a long time ago, Mihael."

"But, you're still the same guy who wants to help people, right? Then... help me find out what's going on with Mail. Please, L, I just know something's wrong."

"I'll try, but I can't make any promises."

...

Three weeks passed and Mihael sat on a bench between two ravenettes. Between the determined look in his eyes, the apathy of L's,, and the slightly crazed glint of BB's, the three made quite a spectical for passersby. They were in a local park, but now was not the time for pleasantries. No, today was a day of much misfortune that these three men were incapable of avoiding.

L let out a soft sigh before saying: "I've pulled in all my legal resources; I've even pulled a number of rather sinister ones as well. But, no one has seen or heard anything. Is it possible that Mail Jeevas is deceased?"

Mihael felt his fingers curl, fists forming. He shook his head and tried to control himself, but... he could feel that anger pooling within him. For the first time in a long time, he wanted to hit someone. "Mail can't be dead. If so, then all this time was wasted, and I refuse to accept that."

Beyond looked to his stepson and furrowed his brows. "Then keep looking."

Blue eyes closed and the blonde willed his muscles to relax; he forced himself calm. "But... L's supposed to be able to do everything. When he was a cop, he was always putting a stop to crimes, locking up bad guys, and saving the innocent. If L can't find him... then what are the odds that I'll have any luck."

L's usually stoic expression hardened and he scowled rather menacingly, very much like his own son did so often. "Luck has nothing to do with this. If your heart seeks justice, then justice will prevail. You cannot allow my admittance of defeat to deter you from a path of righteousness." He paused long enough to get up and, for the first time, he completely straightened his posture in front of his son. "I enjoyed the chance to be your friend, but you need more than that. You need a father. And you need someone to push you to do better. So... get your goddamed ass up and get looking for your little friend. Or I'll kick your ass."

Hearing this, Mihael smiled. He recalled himself making similar threats throughout his life, and somehow... knowing that he and his dad had that small thing in common... had renewed his confidence. "Alright, L. I'll find him. I'll find him, and when I do, I know you'll be there to tell me... that I made you proud."

BB watched silently, eyes slipping closed and a frown forming. He wanted Mihael to be close with his father again, but at the same time, he liked the bond he'd started to form with his stepson. He suddenly felt like a third wheel and longed to be anywhere but there. But... he couldn't leave. He needed to stay for Mihael's sake. So, he sucked it up, opened his eyes, and got to his feet. He forced a crooked smile and strode past the other two. "I'm heading home. Call if you're going to be out late, alright?"

* * *

Analise smiled brightly as she slipped a cone-shaped party hat onto Mail's head. "Happy 9th birthday! Do you wanna help blow up balloons, sweetheart?" she asked nicely, pressing her lips to her son's cheek and trying to keep up her happy facade.

Mail nodded slowly, offering a small, awkward smile to his mom. Because he knew it would make her happy. And good little boys were supposed to want their parents happy, right? "M-Mum?" he asked quietly, voice rather hoarse from lack of use. "C-Can I have some juice? And... then, can we play checkers?"

And his mother nodded, all too happy to hear her son's first words since she took him in almost two years ago. "Of course, sweetie. Wait here a minute while I get your juice." She walked away and grabbed a plastic cup with carebears on it; she filled it half way with apple juice and grabbed a bendy-straw; she returned to her son and handed him the drink, warning him not to spill it. Then, she exited the room and went to find Light where he usually was, in the office. "Light," she said with a serious tone. "Mail's starting to talk again. And... I was thinking, since it is his birthday, perhaps he could have a friend visit. What do you think?"

Light glared at her before shaking his head. "I think the very idea is insane, woman. And, you do realize how dangerous it would be for information on this project to leak out, right? Why risk bringing in an outsider?"

Analise crossed her arms and smirked. "Because, Light... I love my son, but maybe he wants a friend. And, maybe I want another baby."

Hearing this, Light dropped a folder and its papers fell out haphazardly. "You've gotta be fuckin' kidding me. Analise, no. This was not part of the deal. You can't be suggesting what I think you are..."

**...**

* * *

**/Okay, you know what to do. REVIEW./**


	8. Chapter 8

Attention Readers,  
I am going to be Out Of Commission for a little while. Could be as little as a few hours; could be days; or even weeks. I have some personal problems to deal with, and I'm not sure when I'll be well enough to write. Sorry.


	9. Chapter 9

**Title:** ANONYMOUS dot COM

**Summary**: Mihael is a bully at school who has lost faith in himself, humanity, and even God. Mail is a pathological liar who can't keep his stories straight. The two meet online and seem to get along, but their alliance can only last as long as they stay… ANONYMOUS.

**Disclaimer:** Plot is mine, characters aren't. Anything referenced is owned by someone other than myself.

**Author's Note:** 'Uber big thanks to MY Cyber-Mom, CheshireEffect for being the Beta for this chappie! (She did good; you guys should thank her too!)

…

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVEN:**

…

Mail felt his back hit the wall as he lowered his head and tried to disappear. He'd spilled his juice all over the nice white carpet, and now his mum was angry. He cowered in the corner; his heart raced and every fiber of his being told him to run… but there was nowhere to go.

Analise closed in on him, raising a hand and smacking him across the face.

Green eyes widened in horror and his mouth hung open, drawing in several shaky breaths as he tried to comprehend what had just happened. He felt the sting on his cheek and tears began to form.

"Mail," Analise said with a harsh tone. "I… am going pick up a pack of cigarettes; and when I get back my carpet had better be clean." She turned and glared at the yellow stain that was beginning to set in. "Ugh, I haven't had a cigarette in years, but you're trying to chase me into an early grave, aren't you?!" She stormed off angrily, locking Mail in his room on her way out.

The redhead fought back his tears and tried to not to sniffle, but it felt so natural to do. He looked around the room and could see no cleaning supplies, so he decided to look in the bathroom. He opened the cabinets and peered at the number of chemicals and cleaners but, for the life of him, he hadn't a clue how he was supposed to clean up the mess.

This realization only made him cry harder. Still, he wiped his eyes and grabbed a random cleanser, squinting his eyes at the directions and hoping he could figure it out.

But the words appeared all jumbled up. M's and W's and even N's were hard to tell apart. P's, B's, and D's, and…

And he couldn't read. In the back of his mind, he could almost recall a word used to describe such a problem, but the more he thought on it, the less certain he became.

He grew frustrated, and this made him cry harder.

After some time, he heard the distant sound of a door being unlocked. Then he heard it creak open and footsteps met his ears.

It wasn't the clicking of his mom's heels. And he couldn't remember the last time his dad had been around. So, he deducted the calm, even strides to be that of Light.

When the brunette man walked in and looked at the redhead, he sighed loudly. "Mail, it's okay. I cleaned the mess for you, so your mom won't be mad when she gets home." He paused, moving closer and kneeling beside the 19 year old. "Are you okay?" He didn't really expect an answer as he asked this. In fact, he assumed that the redhead would just shy away and become distant once more. So when Mail's arm wound around him and tears hit his nice new sports jacket, he was more than a little surprised. He was stationary for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts on the matter before speaking. "Mail… it's going to be okay."

That was a lie. But then again, there was a time when lies made everything so much easier for the redhead.

The two remained holding one another for nearly twenty minutes before Light tried to push the other away, only to find that Mail had fallen asleep.

Light carefully got up and hoisted the unconscious 19 year-old into a more manageable hold; he carried the redhead to the small bed and laid him down.

* * *

BB was at home; he'd left L and Mihael to do whatever it was that they needed to do. He wanted to help, but his stepson seemed to have this blind illusion that L –the former cop –was the only one capable of assisting in the search for Mail Jeevas.

And though BB wanted Mihael and his father to get along, he also didn't want to sit back and wait for an opportunity to bond with the kid. After all, the blonde was getting older every day, and there was no time to waste.

So, the ravenette crouched low, digging through a closet and pulling out a dusty box. He tore the box open and dug his hands in, pulling out a uniform, pair of sunglasses, a gun, a brief case, and a series of small gadgets.

A psychotic grin crawled across his face as he erected his posture and stripped from his stained up shirt and pants and proceeded to change his clothes.

Because… Beyond wanted to help. And though L used to be a cop and had his share of connections… BB used to be in the C. I. –_fuckin'_- A!

…

Mihael and L had gone their separate ways. The blonde had found his beloved motorcycle and was patrolling the city for the very distinguishable red hair he remembered so well, and L had gone home… to his other wife and kids.

Time seemed to tick away as the Mihael rode through various alleys and down back roads, searching anywhere and everywhere that Mail might have been. He checked most of the local hangouts and even the library, but as he made a sharp turn and pulled into a random parking lot, he decided to be realistic and face the facts.

After all this time, Mail might not be anywhere near this sleepy little town. Whether he'd gone off on his own or if he was abducted, he could be a million miles away.

He shifted against the leather seat of his bike and realized he had to piss; so, he carefully slipped off his prized bike and secured the kickstand before making his way into a place called Terry's Auto Zhop.

He stepped inside and was hit with a wave of nausea, but he sucked it up and began to hunt for the public restrooms, only to bump into a brawny, muscular man. In an instant, a scowl was in place and curse words were at the tip of his tongue, but his vulgarity was lost when his eyes met that grey skin and those dark eyes. He did a double-take and found an awkward grin stretching across his face. "Taz?"

The other male chuckled lowly. "I haven't heard that name in some time. I dropped the nickname right before graduation. Most people call me _'Terry' _now."

"Terry?"

"Yeah. My name's Terry, actually. I've just always went by the nickname Taz because more than a dozen members of my family share the name."

"So, what have you been up to? I've, uh… kinda missed hanging out and stuff," the blonde admitted, lowering his voice and looking away.

The grey-skinned man shrugged. "Work. I'm training to replace the old manager of this place. And, we had some fun growing up, but in the end, I guess we all needed to go our separate ways. I don't regret splitting up the group."

Mihael frowned at hearing that. "You… don't regret it?"

Taz shook his head and his lips quirked into a small, barely noticeable smile. "No, I have no regrets, and you shouldn't either. We needed to be away from one another to figure things out –to thrive in the real world. Had the three of us stayed together, I don't think any of us would have truly grown up. And, now, here I am, ready to take on the family business…"

"And what of Domino? Are you saying you two don't hang anymore? What have I missed?" The concern was legit, laced with anticipation and faint irritation at not being informed and kept up to date. Still, he forced a smile. "I bet he hit the books again, became real smart and is a chemist or something, right? Or, maybe he finally found his place on the basketball team and is on his way to being famous. Or…-"

Taz heard his former friend, and all expression melted from his face and eyes; he looked lifeless, like a wax doll in a museum. Then, he spoke with a low, subtle tone. "Domino and I –we stopped hanging out when he fell in love… with a girl… and the cocaine she sold."

Mihael's eyes darkened and he took on a haunted countenance. "But… he had so much potential. Why would he…-"

Taz interrupted, shrugging as if he had already mourned and gotten over the situation. "Of the three of us, you were the popular one. And without you to hang with, Dom lost his popularity and his self-esteem. And when that was gone, he stopped trying to get good grades. He started going to parties; met a girl; tried some coke… And I've avoided him ever since."

Listening to the explanation, Mihael grit his teeth and shook his head, fists clenching at his sides. "I don't care what the fuck you need to do right now, but… you're taking off work for the rest of the day. You and I are finding Domino and setting him straight. Right now; c'mon." He turned on heel and, two steps later, he turned back to the grey-skinned male. "On second thought, can I use your restroom first? I've gotta piss like a crack in the Hoover Dam."

Taz simply crossed his arms and quirked a brow.

"Seriously. If you don't let me use the bathroom, Imma go outside and write my name in the parking lot… twice –maybe three times."

And Taz chuckled, pointing towards the back and telling him to make it quick while he informed his co-workers.

…

Once Mihael and Taz were out in the parking lot, on the motorcycle and ready to go, a question was asked, and with that question came a dense atmosphere and number of things that could have been said, but never would be.

That question was: "So, Mihael, it's been almost two years. What have you been up to?"

Not sure on how to respond, the blonde brought his bike to life and sped off with a roaring engine filling what would surely have been a long and uncomfortable silence.

* * *

Mail woke with a start, fear evident in his demeanor as he scrambled out of bed and to the corner of the room to grab for his Bowser. He hugged the plush toy close and tried to calm himself from the nightmare-induced panic that swelled within him.

When he did manage to quell his worry, he made his way to the door and knocked lightly, hoping to get the attention of either Light or his mother. But no one seemed to respond, and he didn't want to knock too loudly in case someone was sleeping (–there was no need to risk waking anyone up). He resigned to plopping down on the floor and clutching Bowser; he nuzzled his face into the fuzzy texture of said toy and sighed quietly.

He felt bad for making his mummy so upset; he felt confused that Light had been so kind to him; and most of all, he felt lonely.

His thoughts drifted, and he began to think about his dad; he wondered if his father was ever coming home.

He recalled wandering a dark corridor, Gameboy in hand and the Mario theme thrumming in his ears. He remembered his father's heavy (because his father was a big man, really) footsteps echoing through the chamber. He could almost hear the taunts and catcalls from the cells as he passed the imprisoned ruffians; and in his mind, he could almost see the seemingly disembodied hands reaching through the iron bars, trying to touch him; trying to invite him to a darker world.

Trying to entice his innocence away.

Tears came to his eyes, and he wanted to scream, but there was no need. That was all a nightmare, wasn't it? His father would never… let… anyone… do that to him, right?

His body ached and quivered, and he held onto Bowser even tighter than before, burying his face into the game-themed plushie's spiked shell.

Suddenly, the lock on the door clicked, and then said door opened, allowing a now-familiar brunette man to slip in.

"Light?!" Mail almost squealed, lurching forward, dropping the toy, and practically hugging the brunette's legs. "I'm scared. Is mum home? Is she still mad?"

Light sighed, reaching down and patting Mail atop the head. "No, she's not home. Why are you scared?"

Mail thought long and hard about why he was scared, but it seemed rather silly to be frightened over a dream, so he didn't say anything. Instead, he stayed silent and slowly removed his arms and reclaimed Bowser.

"You like that toy?" Light asked conversationally, kneeling to Mail's level and looking into the depths of those emerald eyes.

The redhead nodded quickly, opening his mouth to speak but deciding not to.

"You can tell me. It's okay. I'm… a friend; I'm here to help you, alright?"

Mail looked thoughtful and smiled brightly, flashing his pearly whites and looking every bit as giddy as a normal child. "Yeah, I like Bowser."

"I thought you liked Mario. Isn't Bowser the bad guy?"

Mail pouted at Light's words. "What makes him the bad guy? Because he's big and scary-looking? I don't think so."

"So, you think he's the good guy?"

"Not really. Y'see, Mario is a nice guy, but he's so in love with Princess Peach that he'd do anything for her, even if the things he did were bad. So, he goes through eight whole worlds to get to her; he slays all the happy goombas and koopas along the way, and they never did anything bad to deserve that. Then, he gets to Bowser's Castle. Now, Bowser's a big scary guy, and because of that, people think he's a villain, so they either try to kill him, or they run from him. Truth is, Bowser is just lonely, and that's why he kidnapped the Princess. So, really, there are no good guys and bad guys because everyone has justification for what they do. There is no right and wrong; there is only logic and interpretation."

Light heard the small rant and smiled. Because, even with the mindset of a child, Mail Jeevas was still a stubborn and compassionate borderline genius –even if the world never got to see past the lies and deception. "You're a good kid, Mail," Light said after a moment. He got up and was about to leave when his pant leg was grabbed and tugged. He looked to the source and quirked a brow. "Yes, Mail?"

"Light, I was just wondering… Since my dad isn't around anymore –_and you are_ –are you my new dad?"

And the brunette was speechless. He couldn't think of anything to say, so he said nothing at all. He turned away and walked out, leaving the door wide open… even though he knew Mail was supposed to be locked up and supervised at all times.

…

Analise was just getting home. She quickly dropped a few bags onto the cupboard and began to put away the few groceries she decided to grab while she was out. Lastly, she placed an ash tray on the table, along with a carton of carton of empty cigarette filters and a bag of tobacco. She hummed merrily, the mess on the carpet seemingly forgotten as she danced around the kitchen and stopped at the fridge, looking at a chart that was held in place by a magnet.

On the chart was the organized tally of how much her son had regressed over time. She skimmed the most recent development, scripted in Light's perfect handwriting and stating that Mail was beginning to question his father's whereabouts.

This easily put her in a bad mood and she found herself taking several deep breaths along the way to Light's office. On the way there, she noticed an open door –but this wasn't just any ordinary door. No. This was the door to Mail's room. She peeked inside and found it empty; she walked in and checked the adjourning playroom and bathroom, finding no sight of her redheaded child. In a flash, panic sliced through her, and she ran faster than she knew possible, hurrying out of her son's room and to the office.

She tore open the door and was just about to unleash a few choice words but was stopped by the sight that befell her eyes.

Light wasn't sitting in his plush chair in front of the desk like he usually was; he was, in fact, sitting on the floor, not caring that his nice dress pants were risking the fate of dust bunnies. Not only that, but he was also clutching a familiar purple dinosaur known as Barney. His wrist turned and the movements superficially brought the toy to life, making it do a dance of sorts.

And… Mail sat across from Light, Bowser in hand as he mimicked Light's actions, adding growls and roars in his version of play.

For several long seconds, Analise stood there, silent, watching the two play together; their toys embarked on a duel of sorts until Bowser came out on top, claiming victory.

"What's going on here?" Analise asked, narrowing her eyes and placed hands on her hips.

Light replied with a shrug while Mail flung himself into Light's lap, unintentionally causing him to groan at the painful pressure suddenly applied to his groin. Still, the brunette tried to ignore the accidental attack and wrapped his arms around the redhead, resting his chin on a nest of red shaggy hair. "Ana, Mail and I were playing, is all. He was lonely, and I thought…-"

"You thought that you could steal my son's love?" Her eyes were wide and her teeth bared; her gaunt stature gave her a mildly grotesque appearance. "Light Yagami, I am going to personally escort my son to his room, and then you and I are going to have a chat."

Mail whined loudly, turning to hide his face in the crook of Light's neck. "Light, I… don't want to go back in my room. When it gets dark, it's scary. And when the lights are on, I see how empty it is. Please don't make me go."

Admittedly, Light felt terrible for what he'd helped Analise accomplish; it was wrong, and he knew it –but, the fact of the matter is that he couldn't back out of their deal. He was in too deep, and there was no way out. "Mail, I'm sorry," he said softly, running his fingers through the silky red locks and trying to soothe the green-eyed project.

Because, in the end, that's what Mail Jeevas had always been. A project.

…

Experimental injections were administered to his mother during her prenatal care, and as the child grew, the drugs were modified and put into chewable tablets, which the child was falsely informed were normal 'vitamins'. After 'vitamins' came the alleged 'allergy medications.' And, though the treatments and experiments became more severe and intense as the child got older, the redhead never showed any signs or symptoms of change, physically or mentally. The only thing that set him apart from the rest of the population was his innate ability to lie.

And after years and years of trying, the project was terminated.

But Analise Jeevas didn't want to believe that the project was a failure. Behind the scenes, when others had their backs to her, she continued to subject her son to treatments, and she continued to monitor from a distance, often appearing quite cold towards him.

And, in time, she found that his mind was capable of resetting and re-writing itself. And that fascinated her.

She met Light through work. She was supposed to analyze the motives of a sex-offender and see if he had any chance of safely living among others without violating underage children. Light had been such a patient, under suspicion of molesting his younger sister. Then, after weeks of therapy, Light made a shocking confession and begged for Analise to keep quiet about it.

And Analise agreed, but only if Light would assist her in her current project and provide the sex her husband refused to give her.

…

Mail was escorted and locked in his room, and Analise made her way back to Light. Fire danced in her eyes as she smacked him across the face. "I'll tell, and dammit, you know I will."

"And if you told, I'd face my demons like a man. But if your secret got out, could you handle the ridicule of your colleagues? Could you handle the consequences of the fuckery you've been up to?"

Ana remained quiet for a long period of time before she scoffed and brushed of the brunette's words entirely. "Come help me fetch my new son from the car. The poor dear, so sleepy after a long car ride..."

…

**/Alright, it's not the greatest chappie, but I had to re-invent a good portion of it because there were pages missing from the notebook I have it written in. I think I did okay, but… I've been having some personal problems so… I haven't felt much like reading, writing, or anything really. But, here's a chappie, and I hope you like it. And, if you liked it –even a little bit –the least you could do is REVIEW./**


	10. Chapter 10

**Title:** ANONYMOUS dot COM

**Summary**: Mihael is a bully at school who has lost faith in himself, humanity, and even God. Mail is a pathological liar who can't keep his stories straight. The two meet online and seem to get along, but their alliance can only last as long as they stay… ANONYMOUS.

**Disclaimer:** Plot is mine, characters aren't. Anything referenced is owned by someone other than myself.

**Author's Note: **Just wanna thank my Cyber-Mom for being an awesome Beta for this chappie! Yep, I'm thanking CheshireEffect, and you should too! She did a great job!

…

* * *

**CHAPTER EIGHT:**

…

Light followed Analise out to the car, peering through the window and widening his eyes at the sight of… red hair and crimson-stained clothes on a small body? The brunette glared at the slim woman. "Ana, this –this has gone too far! Is the kid even alive?" He quickly yanked the car door open and checked the child's pulse, sighing in relief afterward.

Ana watched Light's panic subside, and she smiled. "Cute, isn't he? On my way home, I found the little guy coming out of a local toy store, and he was all alone, practically begging me to pick him up."

"But, Ana, why's he covered in blood?"

And the woman laughed. "Light, don't be such a drama queen; it's only hair dye. I wanted my _new_ son to be a redhead."

Light sighed loudly, shifting the pale boy in his arms and trying to get a better look. "Who is he?"

"Until recently, he was Nate River, but now, he's on his way to becoming Subject B in Part Two of the Project. We will take him in, change his clothes, start his meds, and send him to bed."

"What are you up to? Since when do you require a _part two_ for this madness? I thought the sole purpose of this ordeal was to prove your theory on regression and human-programming. You've done that. What more do you want?"

"Yes, that was the original plan, but… now, I want my husband and my son back; I want the nice little family I didn't have before –this is my big chance to start over! In time, I will coax Mail back into adulthood, and work to create a sort of organic amnesia, which will allow me to re-write my son once more, and… eventually, he will have the potential to become the perfect husband. Meanwhile, this new child will take his place as my new, equally perfect son. See? It's not complicated at all."

Light stared at the woman for a long minute, brows furrowed as he tried to comprehend what she was saying. In the end, he responded by carefully laying the unconscious male atop the hood of the car and then pushing the woman against a nearby fence and pinning her in place. "You are sick and wrong, Ana. Consider our agreement terminated. And… I'm not going to leave Mail with you; he's a good kid and doesn't deserve the shit you put him through. You took away the one thing no human should live without. You took away his ability to evolve; you pushed him backwards on the scale of mortal advancement."

Ana's gleeful expression stayed in place. "Light, honey, you're over-thinking this. Think of how I've stumbled upon something that will help you and I become the very definition of greatness! Just think, the world will be dancing in our palms! Anyone we don't like –we can reprogram them! We have the ability to create whoever we want, using average people as Blanks!" She seemed suddenly giddy; her body shook with excitement. "And we can move –get a bigger place somewhere out in the country! We can have ourselves a whole farm full of twisted children of all ages and races and levels of intelligence! Oh, perhaps we'll go as far as to create a sort of zoo full of humans!" She continued to laugh manically, her slim figure shaking with the force of her mirth.

Of course, the brunette seemed appalled at her and her dreadful ideas. "Ana," he said with a stern voice, "_no_." He released her and turned to grab the unconscious boy. "You're not going to fuck with anyone's head anymore. I won't allow it. This ends right here. Right now."

Analise narrowed her eyes as she watched Light carefully. She slowly knelt down and grasped the handle of a shovel before approaching the brunette. "Honey, don't worry. I believe I've just had an epiphany. New plans. All thanks to you…" With that, she swung the shovel as hard as she could...

* * *

Mihael and Taz arrived at a rundown shack in a part of town that even the blonde usually avoided. This was where Domino had resided for the majority of his life. This was a place of misfortune, where the downtrodden were banished and the noble tried to escape. No two buildings looked anything alike, but each was damaged in some way or another, whether it be with a roof full of holes or a busted and boarded window. The entirety of the area was decorated in dull and drab colors; hoodlums sat around on stoops; hookers with round asses, small tits, and preggo bellies shouted out their own forms of publicity. Children played in the street; teens participated in gambling hells or drug dens. One particular homeless man hobbled by on a gimp leg, pushing a shopping cart full of raggedy clothes and cat food.

The place was a nightmare. And for a moment, the blonde was thankful for his own home.

"Is this where Dom lives?" questioned Mihael, trying to hide his own disgust towards the rank environment.

Taz nodded and led his companion to the front door. He raised his fist and gave a firm knock. Seconds later, the door jerked open to reveal a wide-eyed child holding a book of some sort. "Y'all ain't no cop, is ya?" the kid asked, clutching the book to his chest as if to protect it. "Cuz, if so, you gots ta leave."

Taz quirked a brow at the dark-skinned boy before ruffling his hair and walking in. "Tyke, where's your dad?"

"That fool ain't my dad. My daddy split 'cuz he momma said he ain't man enough to handle a family. But… Domino's in the living room."

Taz gave a nod and gestured for Mihael to follow. The two easily found Domino, who sat on the couch with his elbows on this knees and his hands fidgeting anxiously as he watched a race on tv.

"Fuck, there goes another dime… wasted" Domino sighed loudly, leaning back and getting more comfortable.

Taz cleared his throat. "Lost money betting on the race again?" he asked rhetorically.

Domino gave a half-hearted shrug. "Yo, fuck that. Imma get it right one of these days, and when I do, Imma be rich and get the fuck outta here. Yeah, some place in the country. Me, Shayla, and the kid, we'll all settle down with a nice quiet life, y'know? That's my goal."

"Then, get a job," said the grey-skinned man, crossing his arms and trying to look intimidating, though, with his large stature, he didn't have to try too hard.

"Nah, man, welfare and food stamps gots meh doin' alright. Any spare cash I get goes into the race, and one of these days, it'll all pay off…"

And, having been silently observing his surroundings up to this point, Mihael spoke up. "Domino, stop being such a dumbass. Is this what you've been up to since we split? Sitting on your ass and gambling?! You're smarter than that!"

And Domino got up, revealing that he'd not only grown to be taller than the blonde, but also more muscular; his hair was in dreads; his teeth were gangly; and his oversized clothes and faux bling made him look like a wannabe gangsta. "Fuck you and your bitch self, Mihael! I'm doing what I can with what I've got! I got me a wife and son and we're all just peachy keen, yo. So, Mr High and Mighty, who are you to tell me what to do? What have you been up to these past couple years? Huh?"

Mihael found that Domino and Taz both had their gazes plastered onto him, both expecting the answer he didn't want to give. Still, he owed them that much, at least. "I've been… doing some detective work –mainly, focusing on the disappearance… of Mail Jeevas."

Taz looked suddenly horrified and Domino took on a look of pure apathy, both expressions were virtually foreign on their faces.

"Mihael, you can't be serious," said Taz in a hushed voice. "The redhead? You've spent… two years… trying to find that nerd from high school? The lying, scheming little bitch that fucked everything up?" He seemed disbelieving.

The blonde opened his mouth to verbally defend himself, but Domino's next words came first. "I want you to get yo bitch-ass out, Mihael. If you ain't gone in the next ten seconds, I'mma do something that I just know I'mma regret." He shifted slightly and his hand inched towards his pocket where the outline of a gun was clearly visible.

But Mihael stood his ground and approached his high school friend. "Domino, you're smarter than this. Don't do anything stupid. I just wanted to see how you were doing."

"Well congratulations, you've seen how I is. Now git goin'."

Taz placed a hand on the blonde's shoulder. "Domino is having financial problems, but… he will be alright. If not, he knows he can come to me."

Mihael shrugged the hand from his shoulder and continued to keep his attention on Domino. "We were all friends once. What happened?" He felt his chest tighten and, all he wanted was to help. That's all he'd ever wanted. Just like his father became a cop to help people. The desire for justice was in his blood, and he intended to heed it.

But Domino saw differently. Looking at Mihael, he saw a traitor. "I'll tell you what the fuck happened, Mihael! You –you were always this nice little perfect person. Everybody fuckin' loved you, even when they hated you. The teachers all paid extra attention to you, even though my grades were just as good! The principal always cut you slack when you vandalized shit, but I so much as get caught with cigarettes –which weren't even mine, by the way – and I get accused of smuggling drugs into the school! And oh fuck, how everybody fuckin' loved you. They… loved you. I was just your annoying sidekick, and somehow, that came back to bite me on the ass. I was doing school work, hangin' wit chu, and comin' home to deal with a broken home, but we never talked about that, did we? You never fuckin' asked. Oh, but I got to hear all your shit, didn't I? Well, I got fuckin' sick of it!"

"Domino, please, it's not like that."

"Don't you dare tell me how it is, you dumb bitch! This isn't high school; we ain't a buncha kids no more! You can't just say _sorry_ and make things better!"

"Dom, I'm not trying to apologize. Will you just listen?"

"So, now I'm not even worthy of your apology? Fuck you, Blondie! Fuck you -sideways, with a lead fuckin' pipe!"

At that moment, Tyke walked in and hopped on the couch. He opened the book and looked at Domino. "Hey, Domino? Can ya read dis ta me? Sum of the words are kinda big, y'know?"

Domino glanced at the kid and his expression softened instantly, all rage leaving his demeanor. He sat next to the kid and glanced at the book. "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone?" He looked at the kid skeptically. "Where'd you get this?"

Tyke was quiet for a moment before looking down and kicking his feet childishly. "I… found it… in the library… but I didn't exactly check it out; I kinda just took it."

Domino nodded and took a slow, deep breath before looking at Taz and Mihael. "I need to have a talk with Tyke about right and wrong, and I'd appreciate having this talk in private."

Surprisingly, Mihael was the first to nod and turn away. "I'll go, but only because I know you; I know you'll eventually do what's best for your family. And when that time comes, I think I have a job for you." With that, he walked out, knowing that Taz would follow shortly.

Taz simply watched the blonde make his exit before looking back Domino and Tyke. "I… never should've have brought him here. I just wanted him to see you, and I thought…-"

"Taz, it's fine, dawg. Mihael's just an ass, and I'm no better. We've all fucked up in some way or another. But… I can't forgive him."

"I know."

"I'd like to forgive him –be friends again –but I can't."

"I'm not asking you to." Taz turned away; his intent was to leave.

Domino's last words did not make him halt on his way out, but they did make him smile. "Tell Mihael that I might swing by sometime."

* * *

Mail sat in his room, remote control in hand as he drove the toy truck around the room, racing on a make-believe track. He was quite content to play by himself, but it got very lonely sometimes. He liked when Light would play with him, but it didn't happen very often, and his mummy always got mad when she found out about their playtime.

He sighed, maneuvering the toy back to himself and turning it off by flicking the little switch on the bottom. He'd grown bored quickly and run out of fun things to do.

More importantly, he knew it was getting dark, and it was always harder to sleep on the days when he wasn't properly tucked in. He was just beginning to wonder if he should change into his pajamas when he heard the door unlock.

A smile lit up his face as he expected to see Light coming back for him. Unfortunately, the door opened to reveal Analise clutching someone who looked rather pale. "Mail, sweetheart, I've brought you a friend to keep you company." She practically dragged the albino into the room and unceremoniously dropped him onto the floor.

"Who is he?" Mail asked in a small, timid voice, curiosity getting the better of him as he got up and stumbled over to his mom. He fell to a crouch and wrapped his arms around his mom's waist, holding tightly and peeking at the pale boy with (dyed) red hair.

Ana smiled at her son. "Well, sweetie, this… is mummy's new Project for work. You remember what I do for work, don't' you?"

Mail nodded, turning to nuzzle his face into his mother's abdomen. He said something, but it came out muffled.

Analise simply nodded and patted her son on the head. "Yep. Mummy works to help crazy people. And this person… is crazy. So, mummy needs your help."

"'Kay. How can I help, mummy?" Mail looked up at Analise with wide, curious eyes. He loved his mum, and he'd do anything to help her.

Ana smiled at Mail's newfound naiveté. "Mail, sweetheart, I need you to give him a name. And, three times a day, he needs _allergy medicine_… just like you. Also, since he's a new Project, we're going to play a little game with him; we're going to pretend he's a puppy. Happy birthday, Mail."

Mail's arms fell from his mom and he dropped to the floor beside the albino. "I can name him? And we're pretending he's a puppy? So… he's my birthday present?" Green eyes shined with excitement; the trauma from events prior seemed completely forgotten as he pulled his 'birthday present' into his lap and looked it over, trying to think up a name.

All was peaceful for several minutes. Mail excitedly went through a large list of names he might choose from, and Ana watched and nodded in approval, but that odd sense of serenity didn't last long. Analise spoke up to reveal a false truth to her son. "Mail, dear, there is another reason why I'm letting you help with this Project."

"There is?" Mail asked, petting the messy hair of his gift.

Ana sighed heavily and faked a forlorn expression. "Yes. I'm afraid Light left us. He said you were too much of a burden and he didn't want to be around anymore." As she said this, she stared at her son and watched for a reaction; it took only a moment before she witnessed Mail's heart break; his eyes took on a looked of pain; his lips parted in a silent sob; his body convulsed; and he hugged the limp body of his birthday present, trying to get the support he knew his mum would deny him.

"I –I made Light want to leave?" Mail's voice lilted with his cries, and his mom just watched for a long time before getting up and making a quiet exit. As soon as she left, she locked the door behind her and headed for a padded cell at the far end of the hall. She unlocked the door and stepped inside. Her gaze immediately found the unconscious brunette in the corner.

…

* * *

**/Hope you're not too confused, but if you are, let me know and I'll explain. (Questions? Comments? Concerns?) Also I am (most likely) not going to post another chapter for ANONYMOUS until I finish an update for CiTC (Cinders in The Crater). It's over half done, so unless I have more problems at home, it shouldn't take long. That said… REVIEW./**


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